#The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: Wisteria Lodge

Part 1: The fun bits

Holmes opens this case with unsolicited literary criticism. "I suppose, Watson, we must look on you as a man of letters." Holmes, we were just having a nice lunch, stop being a brat.

If the opening scene is not wholely reconstructed, this must take place after Red Headed League and Five Orange Pips

"No woman would ever send a reply-paid telegram. She would have come.” I legitimately do not know what this comment could possibly be based on, historically or stereotypically. Perhaps the idea that women would (correctly) assume their problems might be ignored, but the telegram is signed SCOTT Eccles, and even a woman writing under her husband's first name would likely use Mrs.

Watson cataloguing Eccles' opinions and politics from his appearance, with no details that support his conclusions, straddles the line between attempting to use Holmes' methods and phrenology. (Unfortunately, Holmes' methods probably had some phrenology mixed in, due to the era in which they were developed.) Either way, this does make me lean towards a later, post-Reichenbach, date.

"the whole queer business" according to an admittedly brief search, the word queer definitely had a connection to sexuality by the 19teens (well after this story's publication) in the united states, and those connections might have been present as far back as Oscar Wilde's 1985 trial.

It almost certainly was not a commonly understood or referenced meaning of the word though, I just note it because a lot of fandom work has centered on the change in words' most common definitions over the last hundred plus years. Also the word queer is used fairly often in this story.

When Gregson says it's his duty to warn Eccles that whatever he says may be used against him, this appears to have been one interpretation of a common law Right to Silence, which primarily covered whether you could force defendants to answer questions at trial. Guidelines about whether you could force suspects of a crime to answer questions BEFORE trial were not in place until 1912, so Gregson is actually being better about this than was strictly required at the time.

Also Scotland didn't require police officers to inform those they arrested of a right to remain silent until 2018, WHAT THE FUCK SCOTLAND?

Holmes, on the other hand, is not being as conscientious as possible about this by encouraging Eccles to tell Gregson the story.

Esher, Oxshott, and probably Lee all appear to be in the London metropolitan area.

The racism regarding Mr. Garcia's Cook is, unfortunately, a huge part of this story. Based on the later inclusion of (poorly understood, badly described) "Voodoo", I'm assuming that he is mixed race afro-carribean. He could, of course, also be a member of any number of indigenous peoples of latin america or the carribean islands: I don't trust this series to have a great handle on any of those cultures.

[monocordum]

Holmes to Watson, taken more or less in context: a QUICK-WITTED Latin seeking the company of an Englishman with NO CHARM, who's not CONGENIAL to him, and forcing the pace on top of that, is UNNATURAL. Your company, Watson, on the contrary

(From The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge, September 1908 issue of The Strand)

[principiumindividuationis777]

[dringkingabooktonight]

홈즈의 추리정도는 필요 없다는 경위등장!? /셜록홈즈/등나무집/오디오북/오늘밤책한잔/추리소설/🍷📚

[mayolive-writes]

The Love Plaza | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Wordcount: 4102

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)

Warnings: Dry humping, mild awkwardness (these poor virgins), no penetration (this time), They’re so cute and down bad

Minors DNI

A/N: thought this would be a fun writing prompt to exercise my humor muscle. I often feel that my writing lacks comedic relief, so this was good practice! I wanted this to be goofy as shit, because friends to lovers is just that much sweeter when it’s goofy. I do have a couple other WIPs with this couple though!! One that’s fluffy and another that is significantly spicier.

Enjoy!!

The Love Plaza | Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Labret

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You must be shitting me.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Jungkook reads the sign in disbelief. The only lodging in 70 miles was a damned love motel. The bright red neon “18+” sign mocks him.

Unbelievable.

"Hell no, I can keep driving," Jungkook turns to you, there's no way you'd be okay with this.

"Jeon Jungkook, we've been driving on and off for 14 hours in a cramped truck with enough leg room for a toddler. We're both exhausted." You flash him a stern look, "we were honked at five times because we were going off the road!" With a light smack of his chest, you giggle, "besides, maybe they have a room with separate beds!" Your voice drips with sarcasm, calm about the entire situation.

Except you weren't.  Inside, you were screaming. A fucking love hotel in the middle of nowhere? This is a sick joke. But despite your inner turmoil, you keep a humored face.

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks again, just to make sure.

Cocking your eyebrow, you give him an incredulous look, "the other option is getting into a crash. I don’t think coffee and 5-hour-energy can't help us now, bun."

He sighs. With every passing second, he can feel his heart losing years of life. This definitely isn’t healthy.

A bell sounds as you and Jungkook enter, catching the eye of a desk clerk. The shabby motel is surprisingly chic inside, with modern hardwood tile, and wallpaper patterned with soft wisteria, giving the space a fresh feeling.

"Hey there! Do you have a reservation?" The smile on the clerk's face is practiced, but falters when he sees the both of you in sweatpants and t-shirts. 

He concludes on his own, no, you don't have a reservation.

As you both walk awkwardly up to the desk, the clerk continues, "just the two of you?"

Jungkook answers, "uh--yeah." You spot a basket on the counter and tap Jungkook on the shoulder, pointing.

It's full of different sized condoms in every bright color imaginable. Pink, blue, orange, yellow, purple, green.

You both hold back silly smiles, doing your utmost to keep cool. 

"And do you perhaps--" you pick up a condom out of the basket and Jungkook chokes. He takes a moment before looking at the smiley clerk again, "have a room with separate beds?"

The clerk simply stares at Jungkook. Separate beds? In a love motel?

There's been very few moments in Jungkook's life when he was truly Flustered.

1. Confessing to Sandy Morrison in second grade. 

2. His first kiss in 11th grade.

3. Figuring out that maybe he wasn’t totally straight.

4. Seeing you, his best friend and crush of at least 6 years,  pick up a large condom, neatly packed in bright neon orange wrapping, and pocketing it for some ungodly reason.

Shit.

What are you doing?

You yourself don't know what the hell you're doing. There’s zero intention in your mind of using the condom, of course--not that you wouldn't like to. But you're just trying to have fun. What else do you do in a love hotel? With this thought, you promptly lose your shit when you sight a shelf near the clerk desk that displays a variety of items.

Lube, lace garters (neatly packed in plastic packaging, fancy!), satin blindfolds, fuzzy handcuffs (red, pink, blue, black, and orange!), and the cherry on top--a brochure of "The Best Positions For A Night of Passion!"

The cackle you hold in makes you shake. You hop over to the shelf and ask the clerk, "how much for these?" Pointing to the handcuffs.

The clerk is now thoroughly confused at the contrasting interests in both you and Jungkook, who is flushed in the face--both from embarrassment and holding his laughter in. "Um... They're all a dollar, the pamphlet is free."

The clerk looks back to Jungkook, "and, sir, I'm sorry, but we don't have rooms with separate beds," leaning forward to whisper, he continues, "if you guys are fighting, take the couch." 

Well, it was worth a shot.

Once you're both checked in, Jungkook is about to walk away. That is, before he sees you go up to the desk clerk with one of each item that was displayed on the shelf. 

Oh. 

My.

God.

The clerk looks at Jungkook, his expression screaming, "dude, I can't believe you wanted separate beds!"

You happily stride beside Jungkook through the motel hallway, kinky bag in hand while he carries the luggage. You must be insane. Having finally reached room 40, you both realize that Jungkook’s hands are full of your bags. Awkwardly, you dig into his front pocket, feeling for the card.

"Um..." you look up when he speaks up, "it's in the other pocket.”

Oh. Oops.

You dig through his other pocket. 

why are these damn things so dee--

What. Was. That.

Jungkook gasps.

You gasp.

Realizing what you’ve just done, you flinch away, “Oh my god! I’m so fucking sorry--" Jungkook is utterly speechless. This night just keeps getting more and more inconceivable. He says nothing as you dig more cautiously and finally yank out the godforsaken key.

One minute later you're finally in the room, with yours and Jungkook’s cheeks throbbing red.

Nice one, y/n.

As you both walk further in, you gasp. All other thoughts vanish at the sight.

Jesus Christ, what a night.

"Oh my god, Koo!" You drag him in faster and he sees you fall into a burst of laughter, and once he sees it too, promptly loses his composure at the ridiculous sight.

The bed is obviously heart-shaped, the sheets are red satin, and the blankets are pink velvet. The mattress is adorned with frilly heart pillows and lacy detailing, with a black headboard screwed into the wall (which is probably for the best).

You both share gazes of utter astonishment, only to fall over yourselves once more. The sheer ridiculousness of it all hitting you full force. Jungkook’s laughter only falters when he notices that there isn't a couch.

This leaves him with two options. Share the bed with you and sacrifice a sleepless night resulting in another 10 hours of hell tomorrow, or sleep on the plush black carpeted floor and spend the next week with achy muscles and a crick in the neck.

He's gonna have to sleep on the fucking floor.

Quietly, Jungkook goes into the bathroom, leaving you to your own devices.

One bed. God, what a cliché. Jeon Jungkook will not be brought down by some fanfic writer’s wet dream.

Despite the inconvenience of the motel, Jungkook is relieved as the hot water spews from the showerhead. He’s needed this all day. Each muscle becomes looser, and Jungkook finds himself relaxing as the sound of water hitting the floor puddles in his mind.

6 long years.

Jungkook was twelve when he realized he had a big, fat, disgusting crush on you. But he knew it wasn’t a big deal. Crushes pass and fade. It’s impossible not to have a crush at that age.

Jungkook was 16 when he realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. The poor bastard was head over heels. Down for the count. Your smile made his heart burn—he’d do anything to see it. He’d pull up pictures of you on his phone on the rare occasion he couldn’t see you, just to make sure he could at least see your smile every day. He recalls feeling stupid for feeling so fuzzy about you all the time, but what’s shameful about wanting to see someone you love happy and smiling? Nothing.

At some point, it turned physical. Absolute hell. He felt complete and utter shame the first time he touched himself while thinking about you. It was deplorable how badly and how often he yearned for your lips on his body.  

Throughout high school, Jungkook could barely look at anyone else other than you. Others could tell, most didn’t even try making a move on him. Except for his first kiss, taking place after prom in the parking lot. He remembers apologizing profusely to his date the next day, admitting that he just didn’t feel that way about them.

During graduation, he almost slipped. Almost confessed that he wanted to give it a shot. The longing was becoming too much. But no matter how close he came to finally spitting it out he’d always chicken out. You meant too much. And it felt… wrong to spring it on you.

But this? He might break in two. He’s insane, he knows, but that millisecond where you accidentally touched him through his pants almost made him hydroplane, losing all traction on reality.

A knock on the door yanks Jungkook out of his murky thoughts. “If you use up all the hot water, I’ll personally annihilate you, Kookie.”

He can’t hold back a smirk, “yeah, yeah, I’m almost done.”

If hot showers were personified, you’d marry them. Specifically, the ones taken after your best friend, with his scent still lingering. This night has been one hell of a rollercoaster, and you take your time washing away the 14 hours of uncomfortable driving and cleanse your airways. Jungkook has always smelled like home to you. Years of friendship will do that to a person. Not even your own family can make you feel at ease like he does, with the way he shines. Bright enough to feel warm, but not so bright as to scare anyone away.

7 long years.

You were 11 when you realized you had a big, fat, disgusting crush on Jungkook. But you’d had countless meaningless crushes at that age, he was just a crush out of convenience, right?

Wrong.

You were 16 when you realized it wasn’t just a crush anymore. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor with you changed. He was always nice to you, but as Jungkook matured, his rough-and-tumble attitude crumbled away into something softer, cushier, and sweeter. It was unbearable. Whenever he put a secure arm around your shoulder, your heart would squeeze, and then release. First yearning, then comfort.

You wanted him. In more than one way. Never in a million years would you live down the shame from the first time you let him invade your thoughts alone at night. It wasn’t that long ago, really. Jungkook had turned 18, and He wasted little to no time in getting a lip piercing. You nonchalantly said it looked cool, but it kept you up that night.

It was becoming too much, but with graduation fast approaching you thought you’d finally have your out. You’d go off to college, and as much as you’d miss your best friend, you knew you needed to get away, and hopefully the love would fade with time.

Well, that was before you found out that Jungkook was going to the same college as you.

It was pure coincidence.

So here you are. Desperately trying to wash away your increasing desire on both fronts, romantically and sexually.

Regretfully, you step out of the shower into the cold bathroom air. In an instant you’re pulling Jungkook’s stolen hoodie over your head.

The room is dead silent when you leave the bathroom, and you spot Jungkook resting peacefully on the heart-shaped bed. His eyes are closed. It’s moments like these that make you want to give in and just tell him. So what if he doesn’t feel the same way? So what if he doesn’t fight back the urge to kiss you every day? So. Fucking. What.

He’s your best friend. That’s fucking what.

Losing him is not an option.

“Gook?” Jungkook is lightly startled, and you almost feel bad for waking him. “Hey, can you move over?”

“Huh?” He groggily looks around, then realizes, “Oh—yeah, yeah, just a sec.”

With sloth-like movements, Jungkook grabs a pillow and a blanket from the bed and lays them on the floor, but before he can slip down onto the carpet you stop him, “woah, woah, woah. What’re you doing?”

“Uhhh, going to sleep?”

“On the floor? We’ve shared a bed before, doofus.”

“yeah, when we were like, nine.” Jungkook retorts. Please, God. Don’t do this to him.

You know it’ll be hell sharing a bed with him, but you’d feel like shit making him sleep on the floor. “What’re you afraid of, catching cooties? Come on, bun, it’s not a big deal.” It is a big deal. It is such a stupidly big deal.

Jungkook takes a moment to read your eyes, only a feeling a twinge of awkwardness. With reluctance, he moves the blanket and pillow back onto the bed and climbs in first. He can do this.

You climb in behind him, settling in quickly. His back is to you, thank God, but warmth is radiating from his body. You can’t do this.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Focus.

Focus on the patter of the rain outside. Focus on the whirring of the ceiling fan above. Focus on the softness of the sheets. Focus on the warmth of the blankets. Focus on the smell of the detergent. Focus on the smell of Jungkook’s shampoo.

Wait, no. Don’t focus on that.

Hell freezes over in the time it takes for you to get comfortable.

It feels like infinity has passed by as Jungkook lays deathly still. One movement and he’ll shatter. The bed feels smaller than it looks. The proximity is too much. He can hear your deep breaths, can feel them in how your back lightly hits his with every intake of air. His body feels like it’ll start vibrating. His chest feels like it might implode. His thoughts are spiraling. He just wants you.

Eyes. Closed. Mouth. Closed. Mind. A work in progress. Sheep, count sheep.

1…

2…

3…

Just fall asleep. Please. You tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you count the seconds as they pass by into minutes. You’re on minute 28 when a haze finally begins to ease you. But some prick outside of your room drops something heavy and you hear them giggling and walking away. You hope they have a terrible night’s sleep. Even if they weren’t planning on sleeping anyway.

Being conscious again, it’s impossible to ignore it. You can’t take it. You can’t. His warmth, his smell. His smile, his laugh.

Him.

Something possesses you. Chest aching painfully, heart beating mercilessly.

You whisper.

“Jungkook,”

“Yeah?” He curses the waver in his voice as your body shifts around to face his back. It takes him a moment before he has enough courage to turn around.

Your eyes.

Your eyes are big and wide, you look scared and excited all at once. “Jungkook, I…”

What are you doing?

You must be insane.

Just forget it.

But there’s no going back.

Do it.

Just say it.

Say it.

Fucking say it.

You like—

No.

He gently reaches for your hand beneath the blanket. The mingling of your fingers calms your mind, eases your breathing. “Thanks,” a whisper is sent across the small distance that separates the two of you. “How do you feel about me?”

Jungkook stares. Huh? That’s all? He chuckles, “We’ve been friends since we were like, four. It’s a good bet that I like you.”

You blink. What an absolute dunce. “No, you stupid asshat, how do you feel about me?” All this courage makes your mouth keep moving, “I mean… I feel something, and sometimes it seems like you feel something too. Can you like, tell me if it’s just me?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, his warm hand slipping away.

Oh. You’ve made a huge mistake.

Or so you think before he’s crawling to hover over you, hands beside your head. “You like me?”

It’s your turn for your eyes to bulge, your face burning at the position, one that you’ve imagined at least a million times. Head turning away, you reiterate, “Unfortunately.”

His head falls to your shoulder, “Oh my god. Holy shit, oh my God. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this shit, holy fucking shit.” You patiently wait for his rambling to stop, but you’re confused now. He’s on top of you. This man is on top of you but hasn’t said anything about how he feels yet.

The only natural response is to flick his forehead, of course.

“Hey, ouch!”

You exaggerate the clearing of your throat, “’holy shit, I can’t believe this shit.’ Isn’t a super direct answer, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re mean?”

“Aww did I hurt you fee—” His lips touch yours softly, but it doesn’t last long enough before he falls back to his side of the bed.

“It’s not just you,” Your hands find each other again.

A thick silence rests over you, despite your staggering heart. You want him to kiss you again, desperately. You push yourself to ask, “kiss me again? Maybe longer this time?”

Jungkook obliges wordlessly, leaning over to press his lips against yours once more. It’s slow, cautious, unsure. Your body feels tense, making it difficult to feel excited. Not sure what to do, you pull him closer by his sweatshirt, forcing your bodies to touch.

It feels like he’s melting into you. His lips are still shaky, but he pushes forward, placing his hand on your hip as you wrap a leg over his body. Creating even less distance between you. There’s a heavy breath.

“Um… okay, pause.” Your eyes meet. He nods and his fingers brush through your hair, playing with it casually and awaiting your next request. In this wide expanse of time, the tingle of him playing with your hair lulls your mind and heart.  

“Again?”

Third time’s the charm, right?

With less hesitance than before, Jungkook finds your lips again, keeping his hand buried in your hair. This time, it’s more comfortable, and your lips tingle. Unsure of what to do with yourself, your hands grip his sweatshirt even tighter, and you find it in yourself to lean in closer, breath quickening less from nerves and more from pleasure.

How many times had you thought of this? Each scenario being different, passionate and fiery. And yet of the hundreds of daydreams, none of them were accurate. Despite the underlying awkwardness, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

All thoughts drift away when Jungkook’s lips leave your own, and before you can protest, they fall upon your neck. Far more astonishing is when he drags you on top of him, changing your positions.

A quiet gasp escapes. Woah, woah woah, buddy.

But your surprise doesn’t stop him from dragging his lips to the other side of your neck. You feel your legs go numb. With his stupid lips on your neck still, he asks, “Is this okay?”

There’s a lot of fumbling in your brain before you can answer, “mhm… I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh really? How much of it?” This stupid bitch.

“Shut up before you ruin it, just keep going.” You have no clue, but to Jungkook, the breathlessness in your voice feels like kryptonite.

Slipping a hand beneath your hoodie, you jolt at his touch. “How far do you want me to go?”

You squirm, “Um… I don’t know yet, is that okay?”

“Good, cuz’ I don’t know either. We can stop at any point.” Becoming impatient, you only give him a nod before you guide his hand to slip further into your hoodie. The trail of his touch his tingly, unpredictable, exciting. The gentle nature in the way he feels you causes your body to take on a mind of its own as your hips sink into Jungkook, forcing a groan from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.” You follow his instruction, and he lets out another noise of pleasure. It sends a spark coursing through you, leaning in to kiss him again. It’s messier this time, the caress of his hand on your skin making the simple task of breathing complicated. Your hips push down again, and the bulge you feel beneath you makes you gasp. In quick succession, Jungkook’s fingers brush over the tip of your breast, and to your utter shock a whine flows out of your lips. Your legs lose more strength, and you follow instinct. One hand slips beneath Jungkook’s shirt, and the jerk has the audacity to cup your breast in retaliation, dragging another whine out of you. Your head falls to his neck, partially because you feel like jelly, and partially because you want to leave a string of kisses to match what he so generously left on you prior.

With each kiss your hands keep exploring his torso and chest. If he can play dirty, so can you.

Or so you thought.

He pulls the neckline of your hoodie down to gain access to your collarbone before leaning up and licking a bold stripe from your clavicle up to your neck, dragging your body closer all the while. And when he latches on to the crook of your neck, sucking hard and meeting your hips as they subconsciously grind into him, you release a moan.

“There you go.”

You see through hazy vision the smirk on his face. Different from any that you’ve seen in your countless years of friendship.

He does it again, latching onto a spot along your collarbone and sucking, harsh but loving. Easing the sting with another swipe of his tongue.

The room is soon a quiet orchestra of heavy breaths and stifled groans, whines, and moans.

Time feels nonexistent.

“I think I want you to touch me, koo--”

“You think?”

You whine, “God, I don’t know—I just need more.”

He groans, “Fuck, babe.”

His hands securely grip your hips, and guide them to grind down onto him, hard. His sweatpants barely getting in the way.

You gasp at first, but as he keeps guiding your hips you let out a moan, louder than the one before. You cover your lips, not wanting to be heard by anyone outside.

“shit babe, please don’t be quiet, please—”

As the rhythm of your hips continue, you lean down, resting your head beside Jungkook’s ear, hoping that the muffle of the pillows will prevent anyone other than Jungkook hearing you. You let go, letting your moans flow, as his hips meet yours. Each sound you let out into his ear brings Jungkook closer to his breaking point.

“Keep going Koo, I’m close.” You whisper, and the sounds Jungkook lets out sound almost painful.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whines. And with barley another thrust of his hips, he comes undone beneath you. He keeps his grip on your hips, continuing to bring your hips down onto him.

You can barely manage “I love you too, Koo” before you find release.

The butterflies haven’t subsided yet. You’re clean and warm in bed again with Jungkook, hands and hearts intertwined. This time sleep feels more possible, but you can’t help but want to talk.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“some of that felt awkward, right?”

“Well, I don’t think anything is more awkward than when we were forced to take a bath together when we were toddlers just cuz’ we got all muddy in the rain.”

You giggle as Jungkook pulls you in closer against his chest. “Yeah, sex ain’t shit compared to that.”

The warmth lulled you into a comfortable silence. You can’t remember the last time you felt this content, and you never want it to end. Every night this is what you want. Hands fit together loosely, blanket tangled between your bodies.

Jungkook will process with time that this is his new reality. His new reality in which you fall asleep in his arms, in which he can pull you closer, hold you tighter, and play with your fingers as he drifts off into a dreamland that couldn’t possibly match what he has with you. No one knows what the future holds, but Jungkook sure as hell hopes that you’re a part of it.

This shaggy love motel did more good than he thought it would.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[dailyholmes]

Untitled (cover of Collier's 8/15/1908 publication). The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge. Frederic Dorr Steele, 1908

Source

[lexie-squirrel]

The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge illustration by Frederic Dorr Steele (1908)

[alysvolatile]

Adventures in fanbinding!

For a while I wanted to try a more robust fanbinding project and I found the perfect fic to start: @niche-pastiche and @wisteria-lodge 's Star Trek: DS9 fic "First, Do No Harm"! It fulfils so many of the things I love in fic: extensive worldbuilding, fun with scifi languages, characters learning about each other (through sex, even!), and the most delightfully twisty narrator!!! This isn't one of my fandoms, and I'm not even usually into BDSM fic....but this won me over (thanks for the recommendation, @fantom-flower!) Check below for images and the process etc.

because my time and budget are a little limited at the moment, this is the first stage of a probably 2 part process: typesetting, printing, and assembling the text block! I used EB Garamond for the body and Jenriv Titling for the chapters and title - I wanted a very conservative, traditional book vibe for this!

For the frontispiece, I used Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's "Ta bouche (Your mouth)" (courtesy of the Met's open access library!) - since beds feature so prominently in the story, I wanted a cozy, sensual sort of image, and this worked splendidly.

I had fun with the glossary and author page as well! The authors clearly put a ton of thought into the linguistics of the piece, and something about seeing a glossary at the end of a book makes my brain go brrr (I blame early exposure to the Lord of the Rings!).

This was my first time assembling a text block with tapes - I usually bind much shorter pieces with pamphlet stitch, and with my budget constraints I typically make paperbacks - but this has been really fun! My next steps are to finish the text block with mull and glue, figure out what I want to do with the cover, and figure out how half-bound cloth binding works! A huge thanks to the authors for writing this piece! If you haven't read it yet (even if it's not your fandom or your usual thing!), check it out - it's wonderful.

[holmesillustrations]

Vote for your favourite, the top 9 will proceed in the bracket. Since theyre all different shapes and sizes, make sure to click into the full views!

Paget Eliminations

Other Artist Eliminations

Full captions and details for each illustration below the cut:

"Two men came down the garden path." W.H. Hyde, Reigate Squires (Harper’s Weekly) Characters: Cunningham Sr, Alec Cunningham

"Colonel Moran sprang forward with a snarl of rage." FD Steele, Empty House (Collier’s) Characters: Police, Sebastian Moran, Holmes

"He picked up his hunting-crop and struck Napoleon." FD Steele, Six Napoleons (Collier’s) Characters: Holmes

"The queer thing in the kitchen." FD Steele, Wisteria Lodge (Collier’s) Characters: PC Walters, Sgt Baynes, Holmes, Watson

"We ascended the stairs and viewed the body." Gilbert Holiday, Devil's Foot (The Strand) Characters: Holmes, Watson, Brenda Tregennis

"You'll only get yourself hurt," said the inspector. "Stand still, will you?" Walter Paget, Dying Detective (The Strand) Characters: Holmes,Watson, Culverton Smith, Lestrade

"Give it up, Jack! For my sake - for God's sake,  give it up!" Frank Wiles, Valley of Fear (The Strand) Characters: Douglas/McMurdo, Ettie Shafter

"The wife was found in the grounds, late at night, with a revolver bullet through her brain." Alfred Gilbert, Thor Bridge (The Strand) Characters: Maria Gibson

"The woman turned her flushed and handsome face towards me." HK Elcock, Sussex Vampire (The Strand) Characters: Dolores, Robert and Mrs Ferguson

"The Adventure of the Three Gables" FD Steele, Three Gables (Liberty) Characters: Holmes

"I turned over the paper. This never came by post, where did you get it?" HK Elcock, Lion's Mane (The Strand) Characters: Maud Bellamy, Holmes, Ian Murdoch

"Holmes had lit his lantern." Frank Wiles, Shoscombe Old Place (The Strand) Characters: Watson, Holmes, John Mason

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: Wisteria Lodge

Part 3: the fun bits

The face of Garcia's cook is framed as strange and unsettling, just like the face of the child in The Adventure of the Yellow Face, but that one was a mask and this is just... a dude. A dude with a face "like clay with a splash of milk in it" and although there are so many different colors of clay I think this might possibly be intended as a reference to vitiligo, or some other skin condition that causes pigmentation change. It won't get talked about further.

According to Watson and/or the police constables the cook sleeps in a bed of straw in the kitchen. So 1) is this included in the story to imply that the cook is bestial? To show that Garcia has not bothered to give the cook the type of accommodation that was standard for servants at the time? 2) Is it actually where they were keeping the chicken and everyone on scene made assumptions?

All the other accoutrements of exoticizing and sensationalizing the kitchen and Garcia's cook follow a similar pattern. This story really wants you to believe that Garcia's cook is a viable murder suspect because he owns an idol or religious artifact of some kind and because he butchers chickens (and potentially other food animals, such as lambs or kid goats).

The blood, burnt bones, and not-fully processed chicken are, of course, things that would be possible to find over the normal course of some styles of cooking - a cook at a country house may very well find the slaughter and preparation of chicken or lamb within the scope of their duties. Hanging onto blood for use in blood sausages or other culinary uses is also a thing that people do. I'll talk more about the framing of all of this as uniquely shocking in the wrap-up.

A spud is, in this context, a small shovel, possibly a spelling of spade and possibly a distinct kind of small shovel.

In the Holmes stories as a whole, the "sinister" or "exotic" suspects, whether they are Roma or people of color, are never the primary criminals, but this story is definitely one of the worst examples of using them as a red herring, and in the process being grossly and racistly stereotypical about them.

In this case, apprehending the crook in order to smoke out another suspect was unusually cruel: the man very likely did not know enough English to understand why he was being attacked, and he very likely expected retaliation or violence from Henderson, who was, as we will discover later, actually the dictator Murillo. He could very well have expected the police to be in the man's pay, given prior experience with his authoritarian regime.

I note that the picture painted of Henderson / Murillo's household is also equating foreignness with suspicion - Holmes has zeroed in on them because "The other mansions belonged to prosaic and respectable people" i.e. english families. It's only after that he discovered that Henderson was a cruel master to his servants, violent to his neighbors, and paranoid about something.

Miss Burnet, whose "age and character make it certain that [...] a love interest in our story is out of the question" is approximately 40. Hardly too old to be carrying on a clandestine romance, though in this case Holmes is incidentally correct in that her connection to Garcia is one of shared goals, rather than shared attraction.

[skyriderwednesday]

What has Letters From Watson covered so far (Update #5)

As of August 12th, we have received (in addition to two excerpts from A Study In Scarlet) 33 out of the 56 Sherlock Holmes short stories. These being:

The Gloria Scott The Musgrave Ritual The Speckled Band The Resident Patient The Noble Bachelor The Second Stain The Reigate Squires A Scandal In Bohemia The Man With The Twisted Lip The Five Orange Pips A Case Of Identity The Red-Headed League The Dying Detective The Blue Carbuncle The Yellow Face The Greek Interpreter The Copper Beeches The Boscombe Valley Mystery The Stockbroker's Clerk The Naval Treaty The Cardboard Box The Engineer's Thumb The Crooked Man Wisteria Lodge Silver Blaze The Beryl Coronet The Final Problem The Empty House The Golden Pince-Nez The Three Students The Solitary Cyclist Black Peter The Norwood Builder

That means so far we have read:

12 out of the 12 stories collected in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes 12 out of the 12 stories collected in The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes 7 out of the 13 stories collected in The Return of Sherlock Holmes 2 out of the 7 stories* collected in His Last Bow 0 out of the 12 stories collected in The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes (*: His Last Bow sometimes contains 8 stories, as ACD originally chose to omit The Cardboard Box from Memoirs, leading it to be collected later)

So far we have read 9 of the 12 stories that ACD picked as his favourites.

Our next story will be The Bruce-Partington Plans.

[worst-sherlockholmes-story]

the eighth pool (published July 17) will be The Boscombe Valley Mystery, The Adventure of the Creeping Man, The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, and The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge.

[eirinstiva]

Something about Aloysius Garcia and Spanish names

Watson in his last letter started "The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge", story published in two parts, and this letter belongs to "The Singular Experience of Mr. John Scott Eccles". This story can be found in Spanish as "La aventura del pabellón Wisteria" or "La aventura de Wisteria Lodge".

There are a lot of queer (?) flags about John Scott Eccles and his infatuation with the friendly and handsome foreigner Aloysius Garcia, of Spanish descent.

Considering that in Spain there are many languages beside Spanish, one could try to guess more about his origins looking at his name. Sometimes the same name developed a different pronunciation and/or spelling in each region of Spain like Jorge-Jordi or Javier-Xavier-Xabier.

García (/ɡaɾˈθi.a/ in Spain, /ɡaɾˈsi.a/ in Latin America) is a name and patronimic surname and the most common last name in Spain. There are many variants of García like Garcés or Gacía but this is the most common in all Spain, also very common in Latin America and Philippines. This surname is so old that there are records of his use in 789 CE.

Aloysius is the latin version of Ludwig. There are many variants of this name, so if one wanted something more Spaniard (?) the name could be Luis, Aloísio (Spanish), Loís (Aragonese), Lluis (Asturian), Lluís, Ludovic (Catalan, Valencian), Lois (Galician), Koldobikaa or Koldo (Basque). If his parents wanted something similar to an English name Luis is the better option because its pronunciation /ˈlwis/ is similar to Louis or Lewis (/ˈluːi/ or /ˈluːɪs/).

Maybe that's why the first time I read this story many years ago the character felt like a generic hispanic-latino-idk man.

Friendly reminder that I'm not from Spain, but Spanish is my first languaje, so maybe there are some details missing.

[thebeesareback]

Poll to determine the most evil Sherlock Holmes villain from the original stories

Part five: His Last Bow

OK! So please vote for your favourite. I'll do other polls with villains from the other short stories and the novels, and then put the winners in a poll together