#Sherlock Holmes My Life and Crimes

[thekittyfox2999]

d

I don’t like bbc

But for some reason the idea of John going for Jim instead of Sherlock is stuck in my mind

what dumb shit would they get into?

what challenges would they face?

and most importantly

would Jim be better at keeping a veteran with ptsd from committing heinous crimes that aren’t a part of their scheme?

[blujayonthewing]

if felix had ambition he'd invent 'being a consulting detective' about it

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

Magical Cardboard Holmes might not be able to launch himself onto my bed, but sometimes he slips down from the little box I placed him on:

"I followed you."

"I saw no one."

"That is what you may expect to see when I follow you."

Lately, I've found it very difficult to get out of bed in the mornings. So I've come up with a plan. Here it is:

I made a not at all weird little cut-out of Holmes from the 'What is it, a fire?!' scene. I am going to put it up on the shelf next to my bed and put my phone behind it. When my alarm goes off, I will have to sit up to reach my phone. I will then have to look at cardboard Holmes and I will a) be so amazed by his beauty b) have a 'do it for him' moment c) be so baffled by my own silliness that I will immediately be wide awake and get out of bed. Wish me luck.

[contact-guy]

Writing fanfiction for Lord of the Rings: I reach back through the decades to take JRR Tolkien’s hand. I will tell the queer story that you could not tell in life, my friend, carefully uncovering a narrative from within the lines of your tale, illuminating the hints and moments of emotion that perhaps even you did not fully understand

Writing fanfiction for Sherlock Holmes: hey Arthur Conan Doyle quick question did you MEAN to create a queer icon or did you just have dinner with Oscar Wilde once and thought 'what if he solved crimes'? I don't really care either way. He’s escaped his enclosure and lives in my brain now. we're having fun

[shakespearesdaughters]

Books To Read In 2025

A Brief History of Time

Agamemnon by Aeschylus

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Babel or the Necessity of Violence

Beasts by Joyce Carol Oates

Bobbsey Twins by Laura Lee Hope

Brave New World

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors

Crime and Punishment

Corpus of Mycenaean Inscriptions from Knossos

Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Invisible Man by H.G. Wells

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

Lycidas by John Milton

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Marino Faliero by Lord Byron

Mémoires by Duc de Saint-Simon

Men of Thought and Deed by E. Tipton

My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh

Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Orestia by Aeschylus

Othello by Shakespeare

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

Poetics by Aristotle

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Republic, Book II by Plato

Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Bacchae by Euripides

The Broken Heart by John Ford

The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Collector by John Fowles

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle

The Iliad by Homer

The Lotus Eater by Homer

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Malcontent by John Marston

The New Testament

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The Pirates of Penzance by W.S. Gilbert

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Trial by Franz Kafka

The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Untimely Meditations by Friedrich Nietzsche

Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Why Fish Don’t Exist by Lulu Miller

With Rue My Heart is Laden by A.E. Housman

Journey from Chester to London by Thomas Pennant

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

The Club History of London by ?

The World Book Encyclopedia

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

Rover Boys by Edward Stratemeyer

A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness

The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead

The Shining by Stephen King

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Normal People by Sally Rooney

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

[mangled-by-disuse]

the other day my boyfriend and I were discussing (among other things) fictional genius representation and the relationship between sherlock holmes and moriarty and why it mostly fails in adaptations because people make it about moriarty playing holmes' game against him and like, that's WAY less impressive than holmes and moriarty both holding their own strategically against someone who is playing a completely different tactical game with completely different aims and priors

(holmes wants to solve puzzles and help people. moriarty literally just wants to do crimes for money and not deal with the heat. they understand people and society from diametrically opposite angles)

anyway this isn't about moriarty this is about how the conversation then turned to how the two most interesting "adversaries" in sherlock holmes are people who just do not want anything to do with sherlock holmes and want to get on with their own shit without him sticking his oar in, tyvm. and in both cases, in most adaptations, they're recast as obsessed with him and wanting to be involved with his life.

ALL OF WHICH TO SAY

i am hereby pitching one final modern-au sherlock holmes adaptation.

the lead character is irene adler.

the entire show is irene adler trying to stop being involved with sherlock holmes because wherever she goes and whatever she does, somehow the narrative keeps conspiring to bring sherlock holmes and john watson into her orbit.

irene spends the show getting progressively more involved in crime procedurals and it is ENTIRELY because if she solves the crime herself before the cops get involved, maybe they won't call that fucking detective.

in later seasons she escalates to trying to incapacitate holmes directly without killing him or injuring him (she is not a monster) so she can just focus on her damn wedding

the show is called The Woman and i think it captures the scandal in bohemia vibes better than any 21st century adaptation i've ever seen. call me, bbc.

[haechanhues]

chapter forty two : the war is...

*written*

word count : 1k

warnings : erm.. Maybe cheesy dialogue idk i was listening to ‘iyo’ by darren espanto so if anything i was immersed.

You’re a complete mess, hair all a rat's nest pacing down the street, scratching at your arm as a distraction that the lady you pass protects her purse labelling you as nothing but a ‘crackhead’. 

You punch in your code, pulling at the door before it can even get a beep in. 

Your eyes flit around his clean kitchen, save for a couple of opened cans of beer on the bench before zeroing in on his suitcase sitting in the middle of the living room floor. With a momentary decision, you race towards his suitcase, getting a grip on the body and the handle awkwardly. 

“Y/N?” 

With only a quick glimpse at the boy in front of you fresh from a quick shower, before you rush out of his apartment with his suitcase in your hold. 

“Y/N!” 

You run and run, despite his cursing and his pleas for you to slow down and stop going ignored. Two things you are very against currently, but it feels like a hate crime when you find yourself at a dead end. Your turn hazardously, trapped as you look for a way out. 

“Y/N, what the fuck?” He’s exasperated, exhausted and pure sweat. Not an ounce of amusement. 

You breathe heavily. 

“You took my suitcase,” He states, a slight whistle in his breath. 

“Yes.” 

You stare at him, tears welling in your eyes. His hair is still somewhat wet, darker than usual. It sends your heart into overdrive. 

“Let me guess…” He raises his eyebrows, exhaling, “You thought ‘Oh Haechan must not need any peace today, let’s make him fucking run after he just showered!’ Yeah I like your idea, really.” 

And you stare some more, unwilling to let him leave your sight, your grip on the suitcase tightening until the strain turns your wrist bloodless, “You can’t leave.” 

What?

You must be delirious. 

Absolutely mental. 

“You can’t just tell me what to do,” He chastises to which you shake your head like a scolded kid getting the biggest verbal lashing of your life. And yet, despite that you hold firm. 

He observes your expression with an inquisitive look that rivals Sherlock Holmes. Pausing at what he finds. 

“You told me you hated me,” He murmurs bewildered, “And I acce-” 

“- I didn’t mean it,” You interrupt him, “I don’t want you to leave.” 

He huffs out a laugh without humour, “You sounded pretty convincing, Y/N.” 

“You know I didn’t mean it,” You repeat. 

“Maybe. But nothing you told me afterwards proved otherwise, so why not take that as truth?” 

“I’m scared of you, but I don’t hate you,” You confess, “I could never hate you.” 

He swallows before he looks away, finding it difficult to look you in the eye at the confession. 

“Call me typical, call me frustrating,” You enunciate, “But I feel differently for you. We promised it was just sex and I know there was no contract or whatever. And then you…did what you did.” 

“Admitted my feelings,” He’s straight-faced, blatant with his truth. 

“And I hated it,” You scoff, “But I also hated that I loved it more. The first thing I saw was our memories and how I felt something I’ve never felt before. And then….made you feel less than worth it.” 

Projected. 

“And I’ve got no sob story at all.. It just got out of hand with my pride and everything. And I realise I didn’t do anything to calm the fact that your jealousy wasn’t just jealousy but insecurity and I took it as a joke.” 

“Hm,” He mutters, kicking the ground with his feet, tongue rolling in his mouth. 

“But you’re not one,” The need to victimise yourself is pressed down by your gritted teeth, “You’re not anything like that to me. You’re….a whole meaning entirely.” 

You swallow the clog in your throat to no avail. 

“You’re the only Haechan I have,” You croak but you refuse to coddle him with your tears, sway him with your emotions. 

For him to forgive you, you want him to make the decision himself. 

“And you’re the only Haechan I want…” You take a brief look at him, finding nothing to reassure you, “God…you’re the only one I want to see some mornings and that is something to me.” 

It’s silent, but you think it’s because you physically can’t hear anymore. Unable to focus on anything but him. He makes an action to check his phone. 

“Who told you I was leaving?” Haechan asked. 

“Chenle,” You admit quietly. 

“Huh….” Haechan smirks, turning his phone to you, revealing the words you want to give tribute to when you get caught for your crime of passion. Sent long before you got to Haechan’s apartment. 

I’ll get you your apology. 

You feel your stomach flip inside your body, the realisation catching up to you. 

“That fucking-” You make an attempt to snatch his phone before making the effort to storm back to Haechan’s apartment. 

You hear a snort of laughter before Haechan’s arms wrap around your waist to stop you, his warmth immediately calming you. He sees the way your muscles relax and the way you inhale him. 

“I for one am glad,” Haechan laughs, “…that was one good speech.” 

You exhale, turning away from his focus in embarrassment. 

“Thanks.” 

He rewards you with a smile that could cure all that’s wrong in the world. But doesn’t say anything else and although it slightly disappoints you and doesn’t do anything to reassure you, it’s enough for now. 

He gives you his phone, equipping you with the power to lay into Chenle through text, who is confused as to why Haechan is so fucking angry with him, before feeling smug when its made obvious that it’s not Haechan. 

But you. 

He sits you down, gives you a cup of steaming hot chocolate. You bring up the hot chocolate scene from Polar Express. He laughs. But doesn’t say much else. 

You talk and talk. 

He draws pictures on your exposed arm with his fingers, watching the way you squirm under his feather-like touch. Loves the way you giggle and continue talking. 

You’ve missed this. 

Him, most of all. 

And you don’t even need to remotely kiss to certify what you feel for him. 

And him? He hasn’t needed to for the longest time.

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter forty two : the war is...

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[glow-wine]

It's come to my attention that CBS has a new medical drama called "Watson" that is about John Watson, and takes place after Sherlock Holmes "dies" at the Reichenbach Falls.

What I would do with this premise is to have Watson retrieve Holmes' corpse, stitch it back together and bring him back to life, Frankenstein-style.

The twist: Watson could not find all the Holmes bits, so he had to use some chunks of Moriarty in his reconstruction. He hopes this won't make a difference, but soon his friend starts to display disturbing behaviours, suspicious crimes happen, and Watson has to ask himself: Is there something ... wrong with Sherlock Holmes? Maybe this is a Jekyll/Hyde situation? Is he just paranoid, his guilty conscience eating away at him? Or perhaps his friend is truly dead and this thing is all Moriarty, just playing the role of Sherlock Holmes as a disguise? Or is it a sinister third entity, birthed from the merging of two brilliant minds with opposing moralities?

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello I hope you are well I wanted to make a request about a little male reader that he is a Green Lantern who ends up in Gotham for something related to space drug trafficking but for unspecified reasons he ends up being very attached to Batman a lot as if he were his son small and the bat family ends up making fun of him for this.

I really apologize if there are any spelling mistakes, English is not my first language and I hope I don't bother you with this request.

Hey, English isn't my first language too, so no worries. Of course I can make this, sorry that this took so long though...

Summary: (Y/N) gets attached to Batman.

Warnings: is the ending rushed? Maybe, nothing major, minor cursing here and there, but only one or two

(Y/N) never knew that if he ever took that ring that he would be a Green Lantern and that it would catapult him into this world of justice, injustice and a gray area of the world of criminals. While it is an incredible experience that most people will never experience, such as flying and having powers, but of course, everything has a bad side.

Such as trauma, PTSD, lack of trust towards people and more so towards humanity as a whole. And (Y/N) lost faith in all creatures as it is, since he is responsible for space as well. More often than not, he would travel to space and he would have to investigate there. More people would think that alien species would be more above of human crimes.

Think again.

They were just as bad, if not more worse. (Y/N) had difficult bumps in his hero life. Being a young hero, all alone, with no one to fall back on is rather difficult. Seeing the awful things in this line of work is hard enough, but not having anyone to fall back onto, it makes it even more harder.

But seeing justice being handed to those who deserve it, seeing the victims being empowered... That's something that keeps him going. And is justice always perfect like people would like to think so?

No. But (Y/N) saw that justice takes care of the innocent. Late or early, it always comes when you least expect it.

And that's what kept him going, to keep helping everyone he could. Through all the hardships... It kept him going.

Soon enough, he was introduced into the Justice League and to Flash, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg and of course, the infamous Batman. He soon became a member as well and that came with a shit ton of help.

Better equipment, communication and more information that he previously couldn't get or didn't have access to. It made his life much more easier and the cases moved quicker due to the before mentioned information. (Y/N) was on cloud 9 as it is.

However, there was a slight problem called Batman.

(Y/N) was slightly afraid of the man, but in awe at the same time. Batman was a detective known all over the world. His detective skills are impressive, almost like Sherlock Holmes', which is impressive. And with today's technology, Batman is nothing short of a great detective.

But then again, there is a problem with the man's demeanor. He is scary as hell. The man just pops out out of thin air and makes your blood pressure rise to the moon itself. But he is a good mentor when he needs to be and when someone needs guidance. It's something that fascinates (Y/N) about the duality of the man.

And, (Y/N) doesn't have a father so he may or may not get attached. Either way, (Y/N) has some sort of respect for Batman, but more out of fear.

As of now, (Y/N) was going to kill someone. He was on this drug trafficking case for a long while, bouncing from one point A to a point A,1. He couldn't get to point A to point B directly as it should have been. Oh no. Oh God no. Why would (Y/N) get it so easily?

At last, (Y/N) has made it to the almost point B. That almost point B came down to Earth. More specifically, to Gotham city. To Batman's domain, so to speak. Sure, saying domain is rather dramatic, but everyone knows that Gotham City is off limits for anyone who is not Batman.

So, (Y/N) threaded carefully in the city, looking for the people who were needed in his case. He tried to be as covert as possible. That, everyone, went to shit rather quickly.

" What are you doing here? " Batman asked from behind him in his gravelly voice, making (Y/N) jump into the air like a scared cat, grabbing his chest like an old lady.

" Jesus! What the hell?! " (Y/N) exclaimed, leaning down onto his knees.

" What are you doing here? " Batman asked again in his deep and gravelly voice.

" I'm here on a lead of my drug trafficking case. And before you say something, I'm not leaving until I solve it. I led me everywhere and the last stop is here. " (Y/N) said with determination in his voice, however, inwardly, he was shaking in his boots. Batman is scary, can you blame him?

" There has been a new drug on the streets that has been causing problems here... " Batman noted and then looked at (Y/N) and it took everything in him that he doesn't buckle at this very moment. His glare was piercing.

" It seems we are going to work together. " (Y/N) said and Batman simply called someone and (Y/N) wasn't sure what to make of that. Why is the man so cold?

" We will work together, but I'm taking charge since it's my city here. What do you know about the drug and it's distributers? "

And that's how their chaotic friendship and paternal looking up started. (Y/N) has learnt a few tricks from Batman who has years under his belt as a detective really taught (Y/N) some things that will help him in his investigations later on. (Y/N) didn't think that Batman would be such a great mentor, but he was.

Tough and firm when he needed to be, when (Y/N) felt weak and hopeless in this case. And when (Y/N) was clueless, he would be pointed into the right direction and was allowed to learn on his own, with subtle hints. And reassuring when he felt insecure about his powers.

And in the meantime, he met the entire family, starting with the oldest Dick and ending with Damian, the youngest one in the family and the only biological one in the family.

Everything would have been normal if (Y/N) didn't bond with Bruce so out of nowhere. Almost like he would have been his son. Bruce had absolutely no explanation for this. And neither did (Y/N).

But did either of them complain? No.

Did the boys decide to absolutely make fun of the situation? Hell yes.

Dick would often joke that Bruce has a radar for the orphans, regardless of the region where they lived.

Jason would often compare Bruce to a solitary creature that comes out of its lair to seek them and bring them to the lair. Bruce more often then not rolls his eyes at the remark.

Tim simply calls him a new brother and Damian has often joked that (Y/N) is a long lost son of Bruce.

Of course, all of this was in good nature, no malice behind any of those words. Boys liked (Y/N), not minding it all, but they are still allowed to have fun with the situation.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

--------------------------------------------------------------

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[vargdottern]

"i know you two. and if i'm gone, i know what you could become. because i know who you really are. a junkie who solves crime to get high, and the doctor who never came home from the war. will you listen to me? who you really are, it doesn't matter. it's all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. there is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. there is a final court of appeal for everyone. when life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. when all else fails, there are two men sitting, arguing in a scruffy flat, like they've always been there and they always will. the best and the wisest men i have ever known, my baker street boys, sherlock holmes and dr watson."

tldr: dead wife pre-records a message, telling her husband and his best friend to cut the bullshit and get together already

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

[meetinginsamarra]

Fanfics I Really Liked in December 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

++++

A Small Request by thetimemoves @thetimemoves

We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that day. Mycroft asks Sherlock to make a list.

How the list came to life and an emotional good brother Mycroft!

The Cavern by elwinglyre @elwinglyre

Sherlock is not into making magic. He doesn’t believe in it. He does, however, believe in making rock and roll history. His best chance is to join John Watson’s band, the Magic Makers. They begin at the Cavern. There he learns to believe in more than magic with a little help from his friends.

The AU is set in Liverpool during the early 60s—when homosexuality is a crime. Lots of music and references to the time and the Beatles!

The Ashes on the Ground by 221Beloved @221beloved

What happens after? After the fire has burnt down and left nothing but ashes? Roughly two and a half years after what happened at Smith's hospital, things have settled. But have they really? Or is it all still hovering. And what if someone whirls up the ashes again? An old acquaintance. Can something new arise from cold ashes? Something stronger?

Summary says it all. Go read!

Nocturne by SilentAuror @silentauroriamthereal

When Sherlock is injured at a crime, an avalanche of suppressed trauma opens up. John ends up moving into his bedroom to ward off the nightmares, hoping against hope that this arrangement can last indefinitely. This is a story of nights spent together, trauma recovery, and John finally learning some truths long hidden.

Very beautifully written slowburn getting together hurt/comfort!!!

This Year by DiscordantWords @discordantwords

Last year, Sherlock Holmes showed up at the Landmark with a fake moustache and a bad French accent and threw John's entire life into disarray with two words: "Not dead." This year, there are more surprises in store.

Estranged John and Sherlock meet at the Yard's New Year's party. It starts awfully but happy ending ahead!

Prince with a Thousand Enemies by DiscordantWords

There's a rabbit in the nursery. John isn't getting any texts.

Starting with a rabbit that Sherlock sent to John and Mary, several truths are discovered leading to a happy end.

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

A list of Sherlock Holmes's Hyperfixations Monographs

"Yes, I have been guilty of several monographs. They are all upon technical subjects." (The Sign of Four)

Tobacco ash: Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes - "I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco." (The Boscombe Valley Mystery) / "I have made a special study of cigar ashes—in fact, I have written a monograph upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish at a glance the ash of any known brand, either of cigar or of tobacco." (A Study in Scarlet) / "Here, for example, is one ‘Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccoes.’ In it I enumerate a hundred and forty forms of cigar-, cigarette-, and pipe-tobacco, with colored plates illustrating the difference in the ash." (The Sign of the Four)

Trailing/Tracking - "Here is my monograph upon the tracing of footsteps, with some remarks upon the uses of plaster of Paris as a preserver of impresses." (The Sign of the Four)

Hands and occupations- "Here, too, is a curious little work upon the influence of a trade upon the form of the hand, with lithotypes of the hands of slaters, sailors, corkcutters, compositors, weavers, and diamond-polishers." (The Sign of the Four)

Ciphers - "I am fairly familiar with all forms of secret writings, and am myself the author of a trifling monograph upon the subject, in which I analyze one hundred and sixty separate ciphers [...]." (The Adventure of the Dancing Men)

18th century?/historical manuscipts - "It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject." (The Hound of the Baskervilles)

Bees/beekeeping: Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen - "Alone I did it. Behold the fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched the little working gangs as once I watched the criminal world of London.”

Articles:

Theory of criminology: The Book of Life - "Its somewhat ambitious title was “The Book of Life,” and it attempted to show how much an observant man might learn by an accurate and systematic examiniation of all that came his way."

To be written:

Malingering - "Malingering is a subject upon which I have sometimes thought of writing a monograph. A little occasional talk about half-crowns, oysters, or any other extraneous subject produces a pleasing effect of delirium.” (The Adventure of the Dying Detective)

Dogs - "I have serious thoughts of writing a small monograph upon the uses of dogs in the work of the detective.” (The Adventure of the Creeping Man)

Typewriters/Typewriting- "I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime." (A Case of Identity)

Please feel free to add what I missed!

[heroesriseandfall]

Introduction to Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, April 1990

Introduction by Dennis O'Neil for Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (1990 collected edition)

Transcription below the cut/readmore.

INTRODUCTION by DENNIS O'NEIL

Robin was gone. We needed a new Boy Wonder. There had been two previous Robins. The original first appeared less than a year after a new costumed hero called Batman made his debut in DETECTIVE COMICS #27, to instant success. Some time within the next eleven months, his creators, artist Bob Kane and his writer-collaborator Bill Finger, decided to give their dark, obsessed hero a kind of surrogate son, Robin, who was hailed on the cover of DETECTIVE #36 as “the sensational character-find of 1940—Robin, The Boy Wonder.” Over the next 40 years, Batman’s fortunes varied: always, however, Robin was at Batman’s side.

He served a couple of functions. If Batman were real (and it may shock some of our more avid readers to learn he isn’t), and if he were the grim, obsessed loner he is often portrayed as, Robin, with some help from Batman's faithful butler Alfred, would keep him sane; a man whose every waking hour is focused on the grimmest aspects of society, who is unable to release the effects of seeing his parents murdered, whose life is an amalgam of sudden violence and lonely vigilance, would soon skew into a nasty insanity if he did not have someone to care for, someone to maintain a link with common humanity. But Batman is, of course, not real. (My apologies to avid readers.) He isn’t exactly a fictional character—more on that shortly—but he does not and could not exist as a living, breathing human being. That doesn’t make Robin any less useful: he serves the same functions in the Batman stories as Watson served in the Sherlock Holmes canon and the gravedigger serves in Hamlet: like Holmes’s faithful doctor, Robin is a sounding board, a person with whom the hero can have dialogues and thus let the reader know how brilliantly he’s handling matters and like the gravedigger, he occasionally provides a bright note in an otherwise relentlessly morose narrative.

Which is why I was a trifle uneasy when we—the editorial staff of DC Comics—decided to let our audience decide whether he would live or die. It came to be known in our offices as the “telephone stunt.” We had a character, Robin, the readers didn’t seem terribly fond of. This wasn’t the original Robin, the “character-find of 1940”; that Robin was Dick Grayson and he had graduated from sidekick to bona fide hero who fronted a group of evil-fighting adolescents, The Teen Titans. In 1983, it was decreed that Robin should grow up and assume a crime-fighting identity of his own—become his own man, as befitted the leader of the mighty Titans. He left Batman’s world to assume the name, costume, and persona of Nightwing. Gerry Conway and Don Newton replaced him with a second Robin, Jason Todd, whose biography was virtually identical to that of Dick Grayson. Why not? Gerry and Don were not trying to innovate, they were simply filling a void. The assignment they were given was simple: Provide another Robin. Quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

In 1986, Max Allan Collins inherited the Batman writing assignment and told his editor he had an idea for an improved Jason Todd. Make him a street kid, Collins said. Make his parents criminals. Have him and Batman on opposite sides at first. Sounded fine to the editor and, since DC was in the middle of a vast, company-wide overhaul of storylines anyway, Collins was told to go ahead. I was the editor; I did the telling. And I’d do it again, today. Collins’s Robin was dramatic, did have story potential. But readers didn’t take to him. I don't know now, and will probably never know why. Jason was accepted as long as he was a Dick Grayson clone, but when he acquired a distinct and, Collins and I still believe, more interesting backstory, their affection cooled. Maybe we—me and the writers who followed Collins—should have worked harder at making Jason likeable. Or maybe, I guessed, on some subconscious level our most loyal readers felt Jason was a usurper. For whatever reason, Jason was not the favorite Dick had been. He wasn’t hated, exactly, but he wasn’t loved, either. Should we write him out of the continuity? It didn’t seem like a bad idea, and when we thought of the experiment that became the telephone stunt, Jason seemed the perfect subject for it. The mechanics were pretty simple: we put Jason in an explosion and gave the readers two telephone numbers they could call, the first to vote that Jason would survive the blast, the second to vote that he wouldn't.

It was successful—oh my, yes. We expected to generate some interest, but not the amount or intensity we got. As soon as the final vote was tallied—5271 for Jasons survival, a deciding 5343 against—the calls began. For most of three days, I talked to journalists, disc jockeys, television reporters. We got a lot of compliments. They ranged from a critic’s liking our stunt to the participatory drama of avant garde theater to the brilliant comedy team of Penn and Teller expressing mock envy that we beat them to “the kill-your-partner-900-number scam.” But then came the backlash, ugly and, to me at least, totally unexpected: one reporter claimed that the whole event had been rigged—that, in fact, we had decided on Jason’s demise ahead of time and staged an elaborate charade; a teary grandmother said that her grandchildren loved Jason and now we’d killed him; several colleagues accused us of turning our magazines into a “Roman circus.” Cynical was a word used. And exploitive. Sleazy. Dishonorable. Wait a minute, I wanted to reply. Jason Todd is just a phantom, a figment of several imaginations. No real kid died. No real anything died. It’s all just stories—

I would have been wrong. Batman, and Superman, and Wonder Woman and their supporting casts are quite a bit more than “just stories” if, by “stories,” we mean ephemeral amusements. They’ve been in continuous magazine publication for a half-century, and they’ve been in movies, and television shows, and in novels, and on cereal boxes and T-shirts and underwear and candy bars and yo-yos and games—thousands of ventures. For fifty years. Fifty years! Although the circulation of our magazines is relatively modest, these characters have been so enduring, so pervasive, they have permeated our collective consciousness. Everybody recognizes them. They are our post-industrial folklore and, as such, they mean much more to people than a few minutes’ idle amusement. They’re part of the psychic family. The public and apparently callous slaying of one of their number was, to some, a vicious attack on the special part of their souls that needs awe, magic, heroism.

We had promised to abide by the telephone poll, and we would. But within a few days, it became apparent that we’d have to begin growing another Robin. We had forgotten that Batman exists outside the pages of our comics, is not the exclusive property of DC’s editorial staff; because he is both popular and imperishable, hundreds of others have some legitimate interest in him (not the least of whom are the readers who, for one reason or another, had missed the voting.) Our medium may have kept him alive, but others have added immeasurably to his success. When we began hearing from them, the consensus was that a Batman without a Robin wasn't quite a Batman. I wasn’t surprised. Nor did I disagree, particularly. So our problem became: how to create Robin III without generating the hostility that plagued poor Jason. Dick Grayson was the answer. If, as we thought, readers felt Jason had somehow usurped Dick’s place, then we should link the new Robin to Dick—give Robin III his predecessor’s stamp of approval. One writer had done almost all of the Dick Grayson material DC had published for a decade: Marv Wolfman, co-creator (with George Pérez) of the New Teen Titans. That made Mary the first, and really only, choice to undertake the task of giving Batman a new helper. And if we were using Marv, why not have some of the story happen in the pages of THE NEW TITANS, which he was already writing, and thus be able to take advantage of the very considerable talents of Marv's collaborator on the Titans, George Pérez? George volunteered to co-plot the story with Mary and do layouts on the TITANS episodes, and editor Mike Carlin enlisted Tom Grummett and Bob McLeod to complete George's graphics work. I asked the regular BATMAN artists, Jim Aparo and Mike DeCarlo, to handle the BATMAN issues. Finally, we chose a name for Robin III—Tim Drake—and, after a couple of editorial conferences, six gifted gentlemen retired to do what they do best.

The result seemed worthy of being collected between one set of covers, to be read as a graphic novel. We decided to do that and you’re holding the result. I hope you enjoy it. But please don’t think it’s the end of the Robin III saga. Dick Grayson’s lasted 50 years, after all, and Tim Drake does have his blessing.

Dennis O’Neil

April 1990

[nicromancytarot]

WHICH ONE OF MY FAVOURITE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS YOU WOULD BE?

This is a general channeling based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake content.

PICK A PILE READING

I asked my spirit guides what favourite fictional character of mine you would identify as, pick a picture and find out what they had to say!

PILE 1

Tom Riddle. (Harry Potter)

Being born into a life of disadvantages cannot be easy, his parents have been a fluke of love rather than a serious one, a small one-sided magically influenced fling turned into the birth of their only son, but one could not have and one did not want, so he was given away. Unwanted, alone, ignored, mistreated. So he assumes power in the only way that he knows how to, having not been given love or care his entire life, all he knew was darkness, and so he worked further with it.

Tom Riddle soon enough became the most overpowered and feared wizard in the entire world, his name itself was one people worried to beckon incase it summoned the dark lord himself, this was the only way for Tom to get his revenge on the world.

But Tom was scared, no matter how old he grew, he was always so concerned for the thought of death that clouded his mind daily, so much of his life was taken from him at the start, and at the end he just wanted more.

Everything he had built, whether with good heart or not, was stolen from his grasp and ripped from under his hands, the little time that he was granted was shortened by his fear, a deep deep terror that he would never have enough of it, that there could not be enough seconds on the clock to count how long he wanted to be alive.

So soon enough, the nightmares that haunted him while he was awake, were the ones that defeated him and dragged him back to sleep.

PILE 2

Mira Troy. (Enola Holmes 2)

Miss Mira Troy, the unexpected villain of the story, the one too overlooked to have the evil intent noticed by those who were near her, the woman with twice the mind of anyone she had to work for, but ignored because of her identity.

Mira Troy took the invisibility that she was granted within her job, her place in society and ran with it, hiding her true self from everyone in order to be the person that no one knew she could become. All her opinions and words were disregarded and seen past, so she created a false persona, she expressed her intentions clearly, but so discreetly that no one who had the opportunity to talk to her would realise that she was indeed capable of the things normally seen fit for a man.

She schemed in darkness but she worked in daylight, achieving more than she would’ve been given, creating all that she was not allowed to have, and all without any wandering eyes, all unnoticed, unseen.

She managed to complete one of the most heinous, risky crimes all in order to make the money that she deserved regardless, and she did it without anybody poking their nose in, purely to play a game with Sherlock, and even then if he was not acquired to help Mira Troy most definitely would’ve gotten away with it.

PILE 3

Elizabeth Boland. (Good Girls)

Beth was just a casual mother when she got herself into some trouble, she would carpool her kids to their soccer games, she would bake cookies for the school bake sales, it was the least expected to know that she and her friends, average mothers like herself were engaging in moving, cleaning and laundering fake cash for a dangerous gang leader.

And even when she managed to find a way out of her predicament, she put herself back in for more, she needed to experience something other than the bore of being a stay at home mother; she discovered how much she enjoyed doing risky things, and even when a gun was held to her head, she didn’t care much for what was going to happen.

She outsmarted those who thought little of her, got the gang leader wrapped around her finger and continued to make the money that she could from doing what no one expected she would. Her plans were always fool proof, they were designed intricately to keep herself out of trouble, and she did it purely just to have a more exciting life. She liked the thrill of it.

Even when she did get caught, her excellence in lying helped her out a ton, making her seem like a sweet innocent mother once again, no one would know what she was really planning on doing.

But maybe she was too easy going, forgiving her husband for cheating multiple times, for faking cancer, for trying to kill her gang leader friend, who may have been more than a friend.