#irene adler imagines

[brimstoneclone]

honest to god i laughed SO FUCKING HARD at this

[nightingale2004]

Sherlock BBC next generation: Johnlock version

Athena Jessica Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Emily Rudd

Athena is the biological daughter of Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes and older twin of her brother Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Is the oldest twin by 10 minutes and 32 seconds

She takes after Sherlock but has a bit of Irene in her

Both Athena and Hamish were left on Sherlock's doorstep shortly after they were born

Similar to Sherlock, her deduction skills are flawless (in her words)

Considers John to be her parental figure and compatible with her father than Irene

She doesn't call Irene her mother, only by her first name

Unlike Sherlock, she actually likes learning astronomy

She has a love for art, fencing, and playing violin

She secretly pickpockets the entire London police, including Greg (it's her source of entertainment every now and then)

She hates socializing and finds "normal people" very, very.......boring (her sister, John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Greg are the exception)

She is fiercely protective of her siblings

Mastered the art of shutting off her emotions (in her opinion)

Loves experimenting with body parts or dead bodies with Sherlock

Loves to accompany both her dads to crime scenes

She has no filter

She is an extremely quick learner

Has her own mind palace

Is very skilled in martial arts

She takes ballet and art classes (mostly to avoid boredom)

Goes to the library..........a lot

Is a chemistry and science genius

Makes fun of her uncle Mycroft (Sherlock's idea)

Secretly keeps in contact with her aunt Eurus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Asa Butterfield

Younger twin of Athena and youngest son of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler

Unlike his twin, he's more sensitive than her and a little more empathetic to people.

Sherlock and John got an Irish setter for their kids and named him Redbeard

He takes after Sherlock in personality but looks like Irene with a hint of Sherlock

He is also very intelligent, like his father

He plays violin, piano and cello

He prefers to observe the crime scene from a distance

When he is in thinking mode, he becomes exactly like his sister and Sherlock

He is Molly's favorite

He knows how to shoot from a crossbow and a long bow

Hamish and Athena destroy their father at clue

He is a little slow on deductions, but he is still good.

Math genius

Extremely adventurous

He shoots arrows and darts at the wall when bored or frustrated

Hamish and his sister's visit their grandparents when they can

Both Hamish and Athena get Lestrade's name wrong every time

Both the Holmes twins correct their teachers if they something wrong in their lesson (which to them, is all the time)

Both John and Sherlock made the twins promise not to say their deductions out loud to their teachers or anyone involved in their educational journey (to avoid suspension or expulsion)

Prefer to be called high functioning sociopaths

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Rosamund "Rose/Rosie" Mary Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Meg Donnelly

Rose is the youngest Holmes in her family and considers herself and her father the only normal and sane ones in the family

She is John and Mary's daughter and Sherlock's stepdaughter

Despite not being related by blood, Rose loves her older siblings very much

Both John and Sherlock taught all their children self defense

She inherited her dad's love for creative writing

Rose has her own blog and even makes posts on her social media about her family and their adventures

Loves reading John's stories

She is sometimes jealous of Sherlock and her older siblings and their intellect

Every time she meets a boy, Athena and Hamish make a deduction about him or chase him away

Has a love for the medical field

Hates when bullies or most people make rude comments or remarks about her family

She and John cook

Rose has a picture of her mom

♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤

+ Mrs. Hudson's grand daughter

Allison "Ally" Martha Hudson

Faceclaim: Virginia Gardner

Allison is the granddaughter of the late Mrs. Martha Hudson

After Mrs. Hudson passed away (R.i.p to the legend Una Stubbs 🙏 you will be remembered). Ally's mom inherited the famous 221b Baker Street building, and now both Ally and her mom moved to London permanently and kept the building running

Allison was originally born and raised in America, but both Ally and her mom would visit Mrs. Hudson to spend some time with her

Allison loved her grandmother very much and held her close to her heart

Loved hearing her grandmother's crazy stories

She knows the Holmes family and has babysat the twins and Rosamund whenever she came to visit over the holidays

Sherlock and John see Allison and her mom as part of their family since Mrs. Hudson was family to them and their kids

Ally feels like she's the Holmes kids' mother and big sister most of the time

Hates it when the twins shoot her wall and keep crazy stuff in the fridge

Knows how to handle a gun

She is a divorce child

Weeks after her parents divorced, she never saw her dad again, and Ally spent a month over with Mrs. Hudson

She loves getting involved with the Holmes kids and their adventures

Reminds them constantly that she is NOT THEIR HOUSEKEEPER

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 5 - I AM KATLOCKED

"It seems to me, Miss Black, that in spite of all our best efforts, the plan to reclaim those precious photographs has pitifully failed." Mycroft seemed to be as disturbed as it goes, in spite of his calm and stone-cold exterior. Much to his surprise, however, the woman opposite of him was painfully calm, even smiling, as she was sipping from the pretty porcelain cup, the very expensive and aromatic Gesha coffee.

"This time it feel a little floral, almost like lilac. I quite love being so pleasantly surprised." she hummed playfully, almost as though she was giving his worries no apparent regard. 

"Miss Black, I don't think now it's the time to be making jokes." he watched as the lady looked at him with a confident, vixen-like smile, her hand angling gracefully as if to dismiss his worries.

"I can assure you, those photographs have never been safer." for some reason, hearing Katrina say those words made Mycroft feel more assured, than when his semi-genius younger brother did. He couldn't explain what kind of influence this woman had over men, but a wave of relief washed over him instantaneously, yet with no rational reason.

"And how, may I ask, can you be so sure of that?" he found himself asking.

"Because Miss Irene Adler is a woman." came her surprisingly blunt answer. "Women understand women the best, you see?" she hummed softly. "And Miss Irene Adler has just committed the gravest crime one such as herself could ever commit." she placed the tea cup gently on the saucer plate. "Do you know what she did, Mycroft?"

"No, I cannot say that I do, Miss Black." he admitted - Of course, how could he know, through the secrecy of their own encounter? He might be All-Knowing, but not even he can guess what others speak.

"She exposed her greatest weakness." Kat leaned forward, whispering mysteriously to the elder Holmes brother. "She fell in love with Sherlock."

Mycroft had not anticipated such an outcome - He had genuinely thought Sherlock lost because he got intimidated by a woman's aggressive and forward sex-appeal ; In no way had he expected that the Dominatrix herself could have possibly - So swiftly, so easily, in fact --- "That affirmation is quite absurd, Miss Black, how could you possibly rationalise a person's irrational feelings? Miss Adler is a highly intelligent and manipulative woman - She wouldn't allow herself such an easily exploitable weakness to show, especially in front of her enemies --"

"That is something you and Sherlock will never understand." she smiled, proud of herself as she straightened her back and returned to sipping her coffee. "If you don't trust my feminine intuition... Then trust my emotional intelligence and empathy, at least." she continued in the same mellow voice. "Women get charmed by the weirdest things - In this case, it was not just Sherlock's pretty face, but wit and somewhat cold demeanour. She wasn't getting what she wanted - Thus, she wants to take it. She wants to claim her newest obsession, to win the game she set for herself. She wants to win." her giggle was so dark that it almost creeped the man out. "And that, Mycroft, shall be the grave she dug herself."

Christmas came by alarmingly fast, and with it, the lovely decoration hung around the apartments of 221b Baker street; Outside was snowing, inside the fireplace was crackling warm, the fairy lights were twinkling festively, and the whole place smelled like cinnamon and oranges. Sherlock, dressed in a suit, was playing a carol on the violin, Mrs. Hudson's eyes were sparkling as she joyfully listened to the beautiful melody, sitting on the armchair next to him. John was snuggled up in the mandatory ugly Christmas sweater; Katrina was worse a red form-fitting sweater-dress and antlers, drinking wine together with Lestrade and slow-dancing to the gentle tune.

The song ended, and the audience whistled, applauded and praised the detective for his remarkable song. "Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson clapped lovingly.

"Marvellous!" Watson raised his beer glass to him, as Sherlock did a playful bow of appreciation.

The old lady giggled sweetly, looking up at the detective with a slightly impish grin. She was up to no good, as always. "I wish you could have worn the antlers!"

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson." the man smiled playfully.

"Wish granted, Mrs. Hudson!" Katrina chirped cutely, prancing up to Sherlock and putting a pair of antlers on his fluffy head. "Lovely, right?"

"Brilliant idea, Kat, darling - Oh, Sherlock, you look simply adorable!" she clearly was just a little bit tipsy - It was a delight to see her so gleeful and cute. Kat and Sherlock shared a look - He might not have been the greatest fan of her decision, but at least Mrs. Hudson was happy. He didn't protest too much.

John handed the elderly woman a cup of tea, taking away the alcohol. His new girlfriend came over with a tray of cookies and cakes, offering it to the two. "Thank you, Jeanette!" said Katrina, whilst Sherlock muttered "No thank you, Sarah." the woman's face fell, clearly displeased. John ran over immediately, putting his arm around her and trying to alleviate the situation - Sherlock wasn't good with names, he said, but of course, he is also not good with... People in general. And feelings. And diplomacy.

"No, no, no, I can get this." Jeanette placed down the tray, folding her arms to her chest and looking up at the detective with a murderous look. "Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then ... Who was after the boring teacher?" oh Sherlock...

"Nobody." the woman deadpanned.

"Jeanette!" he exclaimed, proud of his sound deduction. "Process of elimination." John awkwardly took his girlfriend away from there, trying to pacify her.

At once, the door opened, and Sherlock groaned, looking away. "Oh, dear Lord." he grunted, surprising the red head as she looked at him with confusion; With a subtle tilt of his head, he motioned for her to look towards the new-comer. It was Molly Hooper, smiling timidly, wrapped in a large coat and carrying some large gift bags. Katrina looked again at Sherlock, not understanding why he was so upset to see Molly there; She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, angling her gaze to meet his. He didn't say nothing, and the eye-contact lasted for a mere few seconds, yet his hand picked her own and held it - Her hand was so small compared to his, he realised - Her fingers so slender and feminine, and her nails were long and slightly sharp - And painted a delicate shade of glittery rouge. The ring finger also had a cute reindeer painted on it, how quaint.

Kat could see how annoyed the detective was, hearing everyone saying those mandatory and highly boring 'Hello's to each other, so she pulled him further from them, to sit down. Bored, he went on John's blog, making a big fuss about the fixed counter of 1895 views; Then, he complained about the picture posted of hi with the deerstalker hat. How silly. "But you do look pretty with it." Sherlock shot her a look, before he huffed and closed the laptop lid. He was safe nowhere, damn it!

"How’s the hip?" Molly asked the old woman.

"Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking." Kat could feel that pain very well.

"I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." an awkward silence fell over the apartment, making Molly embarrassed. Sherlock rolled his eyes - Not even he was so awful at socialising. "Oh, God. Sorry."

"Don’t make jokes, Molly." Holmes warned her harshly.

Greg hands her a glass of red wine. "Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas." that's a good light-conversation! Good job, Molls!

"That’s first thing in the morning, me and my wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted." Lestrade spoke proudly.   "No, she’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher." Kat had to harshly tug on Sherlock's sleeve to make him shut up.

Molly turned next to John who was sitting on the arm of his armchair, with Jeanette is sitting on the chair. "And John. I hear you’re off to your sister’s, is that right?" he affirmed. "Sherlock was complaining." the man in cause raised a warning, indignant eyebrow at her, making the woman correct herself. "... Saying."   "First time ever, she’s cleaned up her act. She’s off the booze." Sherlock negated that proposition. "Shut up, Sherlock!"

"I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him." finally, the detective was simply done with this pleasantry facade. He simply couldn't stand the disturbance of the otherwise jolly Christmas party. Why did she have to come and ruin everything? Things were just fine without her and her stupid jokes, and her god-awful attempts at making small talk. Why couldn't she just sit quietly in a corner and shut up? Or better - Not come at all? He hated how awkward she was, how it was always about boyfriends and love and stupid things - Doesn't she know other things exist in life also?

"Sorry, what?" the room became quiet, and Molly found herself gasping, feeling attacked, viewed under a microscope like a specimen under a bird's view eye.

"In fact, you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift." Sherlock got up from the chair so rapidly that he mistakenly pulled Katrina up with him also, as she tried to tug on his sleeve to make him shut up and not ruin the festive mood for everyone.

Exasperated, John groaned at his friend. "Take a day off, Sherlock."

 Lestrade, also, strode across the room and slammed a drink on the table in front of him. "Shut up and have a drink."

 "Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – Perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best." everyone was looking at the red head to do something fast, before things escalate - And with Sherlock, they always go down VERY fast.

At once, Katrina sprung towards the gifts and took out the scarf she got for Sherlock, then ran in front of him, throwing it around his neck and covering his mouth tightly. "I hope you like my gift for you, Sher. It's 100% cashmere. Very soft and comfortable, isn't it? Perfectly warm for this type of weather." she smiled innocently, almost hearing the sighs of relief from the others. "Speaking of comfortable - Mrs. Hudson, John and I had a surprise prepared for you! Come on, follow me!" and with surprising force, the red head dragged the man far away from the living-room, leaving behind a confused and awkward Molly, and a very exhausted crew.

"What, exactly, are you planning?" Sherlock asked as he finally grabbed the scarf off his face.

"Sparing everyone a very uncomfortable evening." she smiled thinly. "What were you thinking, attacking Molly like that? It's Christmas - Take a break - Keep that for the hospital when she's boring you to death." 

The childish detective clearly wasn't appreciating the scolding, as he frowned and pouted at her, shocked that she wasn't enabling his behaviour. "Oh, come on, don't be taking her side now!" he groaned in annoyance. "You saw it yourself - That gift is for someone special, why else would she doll herself up so ridiculously on a cozy Christmas party at home?" he huffed, gesticulating rapidly. "The shade of red from that bow echoes her lipstick – Either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage." Katrina had to point out that she herself is also wearing red lipstick, as not only it is a feminine colour, but a highly classic and elegant one - Irene Adler would know best. "Yes, you're wearing red because it suits you, and because it's Christmas - But red lipstick only makes her already thin lips look even weirder." he dismissed her previous claim swiftly with more hand flipping in the air. "You, as well as I, know very well that she only ever has looooove on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all - Though quite peculiar she hasn't taken him with her to the party - Or perhaps she's going over at his afterwards?" his speculation only made the girl sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. "She has long-term hopes, however forlorn - She’s seeing him tonight, that's evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing - Such dolling-up but with clear lack of style simply shows how she's trying to compensate for the  size of her mouth and breasts---"

"She did it for you." Sherlock's insulting rant faded off into a shocking void once he heard the girl's deadpan words. "She dressed up for you. She did her make-up for you. She wrapped the prettiest and most meaningful gift - For you." she explained, as if he was a mindless child. "No matter how many boyfriends she has - Molly Hooper's heart will always be yours, Sherlock? Why can't you understand that much?" like a guilty child, he licked his lips and looked down at his feet. "Can you please stop mocking and degrading her for having feelings for you? Least of all, on Christmas night, and in front of everyone?" he remained silent still. "What you were doing was not only atrocious, but cruel - And what did she do wrong? Being in love? Trying to impress you? Or, Heaven's forbid - Being human and having feelings?" the girl sighed pitifully, shaking her head.��"Honestly..." she bit her lip. "If you don't have anything nice to say - At least try to filter out your words - Or say nothing at all. There aren't many people who care for you, as those at this party do... So don't alienate the already incredibly few people who love you unconditionally... In spite of the way you treat them."

After everything she told him, after all the scolding, Sherlock's priority was still in the wrong place - Albeit, it still made Kat smile her sweet, tender smile at him. "Do I... Treat you... Badly?" it was clear he was having difficulty voicing such words.

"No." the woman's clear answer made him feel relieved. "But if you were to treat me the way you treat Molly, I would suffer a lot." his brief second of relief dissipated. "I would not be so forgiving. I would cut all connections with you and resent you forever. I am not as nice as you think I am - Nor am I a pushover." his heart sunk, and the air was punched out of his lungs. "This is not only advice, but a warning also - Be very careful how you treat people."

"I... I am sorry. Forgive me." he gulped, admitting truthfully to his faults.

"There is nothing for me to forgive, Sherlock." she spoke softly, before handing him a small gift. "Go to Molly and apologise to her. Give her this."

"But I didn't --" he read on the tag 'For Molly, from Sherlock' . "Did you---?"

"Yes. Now go apologise and let's have a good time, okay? We don't want to upset Mrs. Hudson, right?" her smile returned on her face.

"Right." Sherlock stepped in front of her, and leaning down, he planted a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. "Thank you." he said, walking by to the living room.

Everyone remained quiet once they saw Sherlock again - But when he presented Molly her gift and wished her Merry Christmas, the jolly atmosphere returned once more - Unfortunately, not for long. 

Sherlock's phone moaned - It was the first time Katrina's heard it, but John mentioned hearing 57 such texts - Only what he witnessed, at least. That was Irene texting him, she was sure of that. With great alarm, Sherlock rushed to the mantelpiece, grabbing a small, red gift, then rushed to his room. She smiled, and made herself unseen, going to her home. She didn't need to see the contents of the gift to know Irene was playing with the man again, no doubt, sending him her precious phone. Her game, for him to guess the code - Also, her safety. She was going to fake her death, no doubt; Go into hiding, lose her pursuers as fast as possible. 

She made herself comfortable, picking up a book to read in bed, but she couldn't concentrate - She was still highly amused by Irene's childish playfulness. She took her phone and texted Mycroft - 'She's alive' - Was all she wrote.

Later that evening, the Holmes brothers went to the morgue, accompanied by an unfortunate Molly, having changed from her party dress into a pair of comfortable trousers and a Christmas jumper; She looked much more natural and cozy that way, but even so, Sherlock wasn't paying attention to her - He had eyes only for the female cadaver laying down on the table. Her face was all bashed up, but her body was enough for the detective to recognise her.

"That's her, isn't it?" Mycroft asked his brother. 

"That's her." his voice was empty, monotone. He turned around to leave the room, as Mycroft thanked Molly for her assistance.

"Who is she? How did Sherlock recognise her from... Not her face?" silly dumb girl, asking so many questions. The elder Holmes brother simply smiled politely, before following the younger into the corridor. 

Mycroft offered his brother a cigarette - Low tar, he shouldn't mourn someone he knew for so little. "Merry Christmas." he joked.

Sherlock takes the cigarette and Mycroft digs into his coat pocket to find a lighter. "Smoking indoors – Isn’t there one of those... One of those law things?" regardless, Mycroft lights the cigarette for him.

"We’re in a morgue. There’s only so much damage you can do." he watched his brother inhaling deeply, before blowing the smoke out, grieving. "How did you know she was dead?" Katrina and Sherlock came to different conclusions, when they only had the phone as a clue; Could it be that his brother was in the wrong, for once? Was he being played by a powerful woman? Still, the body spoke to him. Sherlock knew Irene Adler was dead. He saw her dead body with his own eyes.

"She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up." she gave up the photographs, then?

"Where is this item now?" but his brother didn't answer. Instead, Sherlock looked round at the sound of sobbing. A family of three people was sobbing loudly, cuddled together, grieving the death of someone. Mycroft followed his suit to look at them.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there’s something wrong with us?" Sherlock found himself asking such a silly question - Did it stem from Katrina's words earlier? Or from feeling so alienated from everyone else?

"All lives end. All hearts are broken." he turned his gaze towards his younger brother. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock."

"Tell that to Kat." he huffed, grimacing at the cigarette taste. Weak and disgusting.

"Miss Black has something that neither of us will ever be able to comprehend." the man nodded his head. "But don't assume she knows no heart ache or grief."

Almost indignant, Sherlock looked at his brother before striding down the corridor, flicking the ash onto the ground. "Merry Christmas, Mycroft." "And a Happy New Year." he answered, before calling John on his phone to alert him of a potentially danger night for the drug-addict.

For a few days onwards, Katrina could hear the violin lamentation coming from Sherlock's apartment - He was clearly mourning Irene Adler's death. How silly of him. Still, it made for a lovely recital, and she loved to read, listening to music. He became paranoid - First, using the faulty view-count on John's blog as the phone code, which was evidently wrong, then even X-raying the phone, and thinking his own address of 221B was the code. He failed again. Two more attempts left.

Then came that evening when she returned home to see the police surrounding her block, Sherlock and Lestrade chatting idly. Apparently, the guys who almost killed them at Irene's home found their way into Mrs. Hudson's apartment and tormented her. Thankfully enough, Sherlock defenestrated the leader many times, right onto her bins. That was a good revenge.

Months passed and nothing dangerous happened - Thank goodness for that. Katrina didn't want any more death encounters like before with Moriarty. She was perfectly content hanging around, doing her job and doing her hobbies as much as possible... Yet one thing she hadn't expected was to wake up with someone cuddled into her side, hugging her tightly, and two men staring down at them in shock.

Katrina woke up with Irene, wearing one of her silk nightgowns, her hair let down, cuddling her to sleep, as Sherlock and John looked at them with surprise. "I did not expect this." for once who prided herself with every step of Irene's games... She surely didn't think she would wake up to her hugging her like that.

With a vixen smirk, Irene woke up, and the four went into the living room to discuss what the hell was going on. "So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of the pursuers." Sherlock's voice was neutral and cold.

"It worked for a while." she replied playfully.

"Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me." Sherlock spoke.

"I knew you’d keep my secret."

"You couldn’t."

"But you did, didn’t you?" she smiled alluringly. "Where’s my camera phone?"

"It’s not here. We’re not stupid." oh, poor John, so gullible.

"Then what have you done with it? If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you." and Irene was none the wiser, it seemed.

"If they’ve been watching me, they’ll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago." of course, Irene insisted that she needed that phone immediately.

"Well, we can’t just go and get it, can we?" but John had his eureka moment. "Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart’s; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."

Sherlock smiled sarcastically at his friend, nodding at him. "Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."

"Thank you." John took his phone out, ready to call Molly.

"Except - The phone is right here." Irene's eyes went wide at Kat's words.

"Oh, for goodness' sake." John groaned in exasperation. He humiliated himself once again. "How did you know?!"

"I just guessed." that smile told him otherwise.

"So what do you keep on here – In general, I mean?"

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful." Adler explained briefly.

"What, for blackmail?"

"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." she smiled defiantly.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock peered more, only to hear her talk about misbehaving. "You’ve acquired something that’s more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, but I don’t understand it." she admitted, looking away. Sherlock urged her to show him all about it. Irene holds out her hand for the phone. Sherlock holds it up out of her reach. "The passcode." she kept her hand out, and eventually Sherlock handed her the phone. Activating it and holding it so he can’t see the code, she types in four digits. The phone beeped warningly.

Kat couldn't help but giggle seeing Irene's face - She was fooling around, there's no way she'd input the correct password so easily. Still, the detective snatched the phone from her hands smugly. "No, because it’s a duplicate that I had made, into which you’ve just entered the numbers 1058." he took the real phone from under the cushion, inserting the password. It was then that Katrina actually saw the lockscreen for the first time - I AM _ _ _ _ LOCKED - How fascinating, she thought to herself.

WRONG PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING

He stared at the screen in disbelief. He failed three times. He'd been had. "I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it’s in my hand." the man couldn't help but praise her. "You’re not so bad."

Irene snatched the phone away from him; Katrina looked simply unbothered, serene, whilst John was frowning at the pair holding intense eye-contact. "Hamish." he broke the captivating reverie between the two. "John Hamish Watson – Just if you were looking for baby names." Sherlock was thoroughly confused.

"There was a man – An MOD official. I knew what he liked." this time, she wrote the real code into the phone, then opened up a photograph. "One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn’t know it, but I photographed it." she handed the detective the phone. "He was a bit tied up at the time. It’s a bit small on that screen – Can you read it?" Sherlock sat down and narrowed his eyes at the picture.   

007 Confirmed allocation   4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – Though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn’t figure it out." she leaned her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward over him. "What can you do, Mr Holmes?" she whispered seductively into his ear. "Go on. Impress a girl."

"There’s a margin for error but I’m pretty sure there’s a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it’s going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I’ve only been on the case for eight seconds." he looked at John, then went back to speaking with an obvious huff. "Oh, come on. It’s not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet." he showed the screen. "There’s no letter ‘I’ because it can be mistaken for a ‘1’; no letters past ‘K’ – The width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – Families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter ‘K’ or rows past fifty-five, which is why there’s always an upstairs. There’s a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there’s the style of the flight number – 007 – That eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport." he looked at Irene, who was already having mental intercourse with him. "Please don’t feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John’s expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language."

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." the look of lust and fascination on her face seemed to be almost intimidating the detective, as he tried to divert the conversation towards John, to check those flight schedules. "I’ve never begged for mercy in my life."

"Twice." she emphasised, more aggressively.

John confirmed he was right, as always, and something about a 007 flight; That notion got Sherlock's mind into disarray, and he didn't notice Irene typing - Texting.

747 TOMORROW 6:30PM HEATHROW

The person who received Irene's text message grinned in triumph - He, in turn, sent two messages; One to Mycroft Holmes, reading 'Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.' and the other, to his unfortunate friend of old, 'Now the world is gone, I'm just one'. As Mycroft received the message from the comfort of his luxurious office, Katrina's phone beeped during the chaos at 221B baker street. It didn't take her long to understand who sent her such a cryptic message - Quickly, she made herself invisible and rushed out of the residence, calling Mycroft and having him send a driver ASAP so they can meet privately. During the time it took for Katrina to reach his residence, the Holmes brother was sunk on the chair, running his hand exasperated over his face, clearly shocked at the unexpected turn of events that washed over him. He trusted his brother, he trusted his plan - How could everything crumble before his very eyes, so rapidly, so aggressively? He removed his jacket, downing a glass of rum; His hands were folded in front of his mouth, as he kept rotating the gears of his mind, yet coming to no conclusion nor salvation. Evening came rapidly, and Mycroft's face was pained and anguish, his eyes wide with horror and terror; The very security and safety of the nation were in his hands. He failed the country. He failed everything.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and let his head fall into his hands, succumbing to despair. The only thing left to do was to negotiate with the Devil and pray for a miracle.

"Forgive the tardiness - Terrible traffic." ah, there she was. He did wonder what coincidence made it that she called him just a second after he received that dreaded message. "I won't beat around the bush. Irene Adler is working with Moriarty." that was one piece of information that piqued his interest - Far better than his own foolish little brother managed to gather up in almost a whole year. "Forgive me for taking so long - I didn't know Moriarty was involved, nor that it wasn't, truly, just about the compromising photographs. I should have known you wouldn't ask for help just for that. Forgive me for not realising sooner." Mycroft's jaw hung slightly agape at the apologising girl - What else could he say? How could she blame her, a normal person, when his own brother, a detective - His own kin, no less - Couldn't figure out the evident pattern he sent him over the months?

"It is not for you to apologise for something you were not told. I asked you to take care of my brother, and of the photographs - You did what I asked of you, and for that, I thank you. I cannot fault you for failing national security, when the failure was on my part." he sighed, leaning back on the chair, pouring more rum. "Forgive the unsightliness - And forgive me for being nosy, but how did you know?"

"Because Moriarty texted me." Holmes immediately sobered up, straightening his back and looking fixed at the girl as she showed him the message. "This lyric is from a Metallica song about war - Adding that to the conversation about flights and planes from home, and I realised Irene must have texted the code to Moriarty that instant, otherwise, why'd he text me something so weird, at that exact time?" 

"That is rather dangerous of him - Alas, he can afford it - Both him, and Miss Adler. They got what they wanted. They have the right to extort the nation." he sounded miserable - Katrina hated seeing the otherwise proud man so down in the dumps and self-deprecating.

"Mycroft - I know it is not for me to ask - But can you tell me what this flight is all about?" the man raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I think I have a plan to corner Irene Adler -- And I also think I know her phone's password."

"Well, Miss Black, if that is true, then Sherlock should learn from you." he smiled, though still doubtful. There wasn't much to lose though, telling her all about Coventry, how allegedly, in the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they’d broken the German code, but they didn’t want the Germans to know that they’d broken the code, so they let it happen anyway. Likewise, this time, they also had a bomb threat, and Mycroft filled the whole plane with dead bodies - The plane shall fly, but there would be no deaths. Mission accomplished for the terrorists - Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies. "The flight of the dead."

"So when Sherlock told Irene that the code is actually about a plane, he revealed that you already knew about the bomb." the woman hummed. "And with your plan destroyed, the plane cannot fly. The terrorists know already, and they can't be fooled. You must have been planning this thoroughly for months - No, years maybe - Correct?"

"That’s all it takes: one lonely naive man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special." Mycroft smiled sarcastically. "Sherlock and Miss Adler are going to arrive at the plane. Sherlock will wallow in self-pity at his own foolishness, whilst watching the woman who defeated him so shamelessly takes three quarters of our country."

"Not if I can stop it." she took a little piece of paper and a crayon, writing down the lockscreen. "The woman made him feel special - He wanted to show off his wits to her - But the same is also the other way around."

I AM _ _ _ _  LOCKED

"Do you trust me, Mycroft?" the girl asked, writing in the code for him. "I know it is a lot to ask of you, especially after what happened -- But can you trust my intuition that I have guessed the code correctly?"

Mycroft stared perplex at the piece of paper, before averting his gaze towards Katrina's sparkling aquamarine eyes; Shrewdness, intelligence, wit, kindness and so much more. He was right to trust her once, and he will do so again. Only a woman could understand the complexity of another woman's mind and emotions, especially when it came to someone of the caliber of Irene Adler. At once, the elder Holmes crumpled up the paper and threw it in the fireplace, putting on his blazer and getting ready to leave. "Wait for us in the meeting room. I will make an opening for you."

Night time fell by quickly as Mycroft scolded his younger brother harshly - Though he hadn't enough hours in the day to scold him, for the villainess prowled through the plane isle, looking as sexy and dangerous as always - The Woman - Femme Fatale.  Sherlock still couldn't understand - How could he fail so badly? How could he let himself be played like a fiddle? This wasn't true - It was a farce, a game, a mistake - There was no way Irene Adler had the upper hand! There was no way he failed Mycroft's expectations of such a mundane and terribly easy pattern riddle! No way--

 Mycroft looked at his brother with intense disappointment. "I drove you into her path... I’m sorry." he lowered his eyes, clearly blaming himself for both trusting Sherlock, and for challenging him with the dangerous prospect of a powerful woman. "I didn’t know." this wasn't right - None of it was. Mycroft Holmes... Apologised? To him, of all people alive? He only ever apologised to their mother -- Did he really screw up that badly?!

"Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk." the demoness spoke alluringly.

"So do I. There are a number of aspects I’m still not quite clear on." oh, poor boy, he still thought he was important.

But Irene pushed past him, not even sparing him a glance. "Not you, Junior. You’re done now." now in front of  Mycroft, Sherlock turned to watch Adler turn on her phone and showing it to the elder brother. "There’s more... Loads more. On this phone I’ve got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – Unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

Mycroft could no longer look into Irene's predatory blue eyes. He lowered his head and gestured for them to follow him into his office to negotiate. They sit down at the table, opposite to each other, whilst Sherlock sits away from them, on an armchair by the fireplace.

"We have people who can get into this." Mycroft tried to negotiate, but Irene was confident in herself, thanks to his own brother's foolishness.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Irene smiled wickedly.

"Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone." she ordered him casually.

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Mycroft lowered his head into his hand, succumbing more and more to his despair. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."

"Explosive. It’s more me."

Mycroft tried once again. "Some data is always recoverable."

She challenged him once more. "Take that risk?"

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you." the elder Holmes spoke, but his brother was forced to speak up against that idea once again.

"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can’t know which one she’s given you and there will be no point in a second attempt." he explained.

"He’s good, isn’t he? I should have him on a leash – In fact, I might." she gazed intensely at Sherlock, though he didn't dare look at her - Only at the crackling fire.

"We destroy this, then. No-one has the information." came Mycroft's middle-ground idea.

"Fine. Good idea... Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you’re about to burn." she played a dangerous game.

"Are there?" of course she wasn't going to play fair.

She reached into her handbag and took out an envelope which she pushed across the table to him. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they’re granted." Mycroft took the sheet of paper from the envelope and started unfolding it slowly. "I’d say it wouldn’t blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation – But then I’d be lying." he rose his eyebrows in amazement as he read through the demands she listed. Miss Black better be right with her plan, otherwise, they were royally screwed. "I imagine you’d like to sleep on it."

"Thank you, yes." but Irene didn't allow him any second to think his decision.

"Off you pop and talk to people." sighing, Mycroft sunk back in his chair.

"You’ve been very ... Thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you." he praised her - She was deserving of it.

"I can’t take all the credit. Had a bit of help." she smiled ruely. "Jim Moriarty sends his love."

"Yes, he’s been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention... Which I’m sure he received from exactly the person he wanted." he huffed, remembering only he and Katrina received any bit of attention from the criminal.

"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. D’you know what he calls you?" she hummed playfully. "The Ice Man..." she then looked mockingly at the younger Holmes. "...and the Virgin." she smiled with triumph. "Didn’t even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that’s my kind of man."

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." Mycroft stood up, along with Irene, appearing as though he was ready to bow to her in salute and admiration for her deeds in outwitting them both. "Nicely played." 

No, this couldn't be right, Sherlock thought to himself in alarm. Mycroft couldn't possibly accept defeat - Not in front of Irene Adler; Not in front of James Moriarty. No way - His own older brother, Mycroft Holmes -- Admit defeat?!

"Except Moriarty played you too, Miss Adler." Sherlock only jumped in his seat, hearing Mycroft's cunning words. "I was confident when I told you I have someone who can get into this." he snatched the phone casually, smiling confidently and he handed out the phone. 

"What could you possibly mean by that, Mr. Holmes?" Irene frowned, bewildered by the game the older man was playing with her. "Didn't we just assert that there is no one who could possibly guess the password safely?"

"But there is, Irene." Sherlock's eyes widened as he heard the familiar sound of heels clicking, and behind Mycroft appeared none other than Katrina Black, wearing an impish grin. "Moriarty sends his regards." she seemed delighted, amused; She was laughing even, not so lady-like, as she grabbed the phone in her delicately manicured hands. "James only told you how to play 'The Ice Man' and "The Virgin' -- But has he ever told you anything about yours truly?" she giggled, prowling theatrically around Irene. "I thought you understood me, Irene. I thought you saw me for who I was - The Princess - I expected you, of all people, to count me in -- Yet you completely disregarded me. Was it because I was truthful with you? Did you thought me weak for that?" she made a full circle around the Dominatrix, intimidating her like a starving wolf circling her prey. "James still send me flowers every week, you know? You are not that special - You are just another chess piece for him to entertain himself." 

"And how, exactly, are your silk gloves and kind words going to save the day, Princess? Go on, charm me, see if that works." Irene shot right back immediately, standing her ground steadfast. "I am into innocent little bunnies like you - You would look fantastic with silk ribbons tying your wrists together, and a velvet blindfold over those pretty eyes of yours."

"Oh, Irene, your confidence is so... Intoxicating. But let’s not pretend you don’t feel it — The tremor of doubt. The question creeping at the edges of your mind - What have I missed?" Katrina was now standing right in front of her - Once again, not tall enough because of her heels, but no less terrifying with that poison smile of hers.

Irene turned her head slightly, her smirk sharpening. "Enlighten me. What have I missed, Miss Kitty-Kat? I’ve already made a fool out of the Holmes brothers — What could you possibly bring to the table?"

Katrina's voice dropped into a mocking whisper. "Your mistake, Irene, was believing that love makes someone weak. You thought by wearing your heart on your sleeve, you could control him—" she gestured to Sherlock, who was not even breathing, watching the dramatic scene before his very eyes. "I told you, didn't I? My love is my strength - Yours is your worst undoing."

Irene's smirk faltered for a split second, before it returned back once more. "Oh, darling, don't tell me you deluded yourself into thinking I actually fell in love with Sherlock Holmes." she found herself mock laughing.

Her smile widened, tilting her head as though Irene’s words were pathetically adorable. "Is that so? Then let’s test that theory, shall we?" she flashed a brilliant smile as she theatrically pressed the letters to the password, then displayed it to the three participants of the play. Irene's face fell, and her bottom lip was wavering. "You think you’re invincible because you’ve built a fortress of secrets - But fortresses have gates, and the key is always the thing you value most. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to prove you were smarter than him. You had to prove to yourself, and to the whole world, that you could dominate even the great detective Sherlock Holmes."

I AMS H E R  LOCKED

"You challenged Sherlock, provoked him, teased him, tempted him, made him feel special. And in doing so, you exposed yourself. Because he matters to you. Too much. He became your greatest weakness." the lockscreen light flashed briefly before the phone opened, revealing its secret content. Silence descended like a thunderclap as Kat handed Mycroft the phone, just as promised.

Irene's face froze in disbelief and terror, the blood draining from her cheeks pale cheeks. "...How?"

"Mycroft promised me a cool umbrella and more Gesha coffee if I get the phone open." her silly joke, spoken in a dead-pan voice, made the elder Holmes let out an amused huff. Not a promise, but definitely an earned reward. "You dwelved into unknown territory. You could have used any random number, and you'd have won the game - Instead, you chose to play the love game - And you got burnt." she hummed, mockingly caressing her smooth cheek, removing the single crystal tear streaming down. "I understand love, Irene. I didn’t manipulate it. I embraced it. I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable —To be myself. That’s what makes me stronger than you. While you were busy trying to control him, you gave away the one thing you never wanted anyone to see - Not even yourself."

"And what would that be?" the woman whispered, completely defeated.

Kat thus leaned in, her voice soft and cutting) "Your heart." she said. "You fell for him, Irene. And that’s why you lost." that wicked smile filled with venom was the last thing Irene saw. "You deserve better than him - Remember?" she turned that pitiful advice right back on her.

As Irene was taken away, Kat looked up at the elder Holmes, and smiled - This time, genuine and sweet. "Did I earn that coffee?"

"And the umbrella." he pocketed the phone carefully, leaning on the table. "Pearl pink and with white lace?"

"You know me so well, Mycroft!" unexpectedly, she hugged the elder brother, who awkwardly chuckled and patted her back. 

"Well then, with this unexpected happy end, I suppose we can return back to our normal schedules." the man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I will have a car escort you and Sherlock back home." he assured the girl. "Do send my regards and thanks to Doctor Watson."

"Of course." she nodded, happy and reassured with the outcome. "I am glad everything ended up okay." she continued. "Looking forward to our next coffee date, Mycroft! Let's have a nice book also, yeah?"

Mycroft simply chuckled, nodding his head, watching the girl leave -- Then, he looked down at the flabbergast, speechless brother of his, still slumped in that armchair, as though he was a decoration. "It is late, Sherlock. You should go home." he took his cane. "Reflect on what happened and learn from your mistakes." he was too light on him.

It was late at night after the latest adventure was finally over; Fun indeed, and Katrina was privileged enough to see another side of Sherlock - Vulnerable and clueless, all because of a woman who got his flawless mind all tangled up with confusion. Mycroft's anger and defeat at having the person he trusted most, his own little brother, fall prey to the savage claws of a predator; The single tear that fell down Irene's delicate cheek as she watched Katrina's smile, typing the password to her precious phone; The look on Sherlock's face once he realised he'd missed a most evident clue, and that he had possessed the password, but he was far too blind to see it.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

After such a satisfying case, Katrina texted her criminal best friend with one single phrase - "I am Katlocked -- Are you Jameslocked?" she typed, and laughed heartily, pleased at her performance. She single-handedly flabbergast the four most intelligent people in the world, and earned their respect far more than she'd ever imagine. What a wonderful feeling, love is!

Euphoric, she opened the rosé bottle and poured the sparkly pink drink in one crystal champagne glass; She grabbed her mannequin skeleton and waltzed around the large living-room to whatever song was playing; She was having so much fun, she even sent a picture of herself and her macabre dancing partner, inviting James Moriarty to dance - Alas, he was far, far away and missing his best dancing shoes.

How long she enjoyed her ballroom activity, she did not know; Her reverie was broken by a knock on the door - Loud, speedy and repeated. Sighing, she dropped the skeleton to the ground, sipped half of her alcohol, then dragged herself to open the door. As expected, it was Sherlock - Hair disheveled, white shirt an unbuttoned mess, and looking quite exhausted... Or, perhaps... Troubled?

Sherlock looked up and now, scanning her looks - Similar to that night with the killer cabbie, she was wearing a dark green negligee and a loose coat over her shoulders, but based on the way they were hanging loosely off her gracious body, he couldn't help but deduce she had been moving a lot. Seeing her like that... Not styled up with fashionable clothes fully accessorised and jewelled up, hair and make up done and all that - Yet still such a naturally, genetically successful specimen... He must be experiencing a most painful chemical and hormonal imbalance. Was it something he was missing in his diet, or the lack of nicotine? "You shouldn't, as a lone and defenseless woman, open your door to strangers, especially at this hour of the night." he was discourteous about going up to her past midnight, yes, but he needed it. He couldn't wait any longer. 

"It's fine. I knew it was you." the girl chuckled lightly, seeing his furrowed brows. "Hard to think many people would be knocking that obnoxiously fast in Morse code." he was so adorable, all messed up and confused.

"You know Morse Code?" he blinked, looking down at the girl.

"Nope. But you do." she popped her tongue. "Just a wild guess, based on the rhythmic pattern." she shrugged, kicking the door open and signaling him to get inside. "Forgive my friend - He's wasted." she gestured to her skeleton friend, sprawled on the ground.

"What's the matter with him?" he mutter, going to pick him up and rattle him back on the stand.

"He stepped on my toes. Not a gallant move when waltzing." Sherlock nodded, still confounded by her actions. "Tea?" the girl asked, leaning on the arm rest of the couch. "Or should I open the wine bottle?"

"Forget the wine, that's not why I'm here and you know it!" he exclaimed, his tone up - Once he realised he shouted, he cleared his throat and apologise. "Forgive me. I did not mean to yell."

"If it makes for anything, I actually have no idea why you're here." she casually sipped from her rose.

"What do you mean - You don't know? Surely, you have to have some inkling, some -- Some idea... Something, anything!" she still shook her head. "Nothing at all?!"

"Don't get me wrong, I imagine you're here because your mind is still warped around what happened today with the password - But there are a million things that could be going on in your head, and I couldn't possibly guess them all. You, of all people, should know I could never come even close to guessing what you're thinking - You're too smart for me." the man groaned, shaking his head before burying his face in his hands.

"How can you say that after you've just solved the case -- If it weren't for you, Mycroft's case would have been compromised, the country would have suffered significant losses, Irene Adler would have won the game, Moriarty would have gained the upper hand... And I would have lost myself in self-doubt." the girl titled her head to the side, looking like a confused puppy. "I... I don't understand... When did I fall off my rational train of thoughts? When did I fall into her web of lies?" he continued, clearly with deep self-hatred. "Love isn't a mystery to me - I understand it, from a strictly physiological stand point - And I know I've not fallen in love with Irene Adler." he was still a rambling mess. "Has my fascination with solving difficult cases gotten the best of me? Have I forgotten this was more than a game? Did my pride make me underestimate a woman's cleverness, just because I thought I was unbeatable?"

"Are you here in hopes that I would be able to untangle the mess in your head?" she asked, pouring more rose into her glass.

"No, I-- Yes, sort of." he shook his head before abruptly standing up. "Love is a weakness, Kat! I can't... It's a disadvantage in every way. It is impossible for me to feel anything like that. I was not created to feel that." his teeth were painfully gritted, voicing his existential crisis. "So why is it that Irene Adler's love brought her to ruin, while your love made you solve the case?! I don't get it!" his voice was getting agitated and louder. "Mycroft told me I was a fool, John said I was clueless, yet both of them told me to just ask you - You're the biggest mystery I've ever encountered, and I can't seem to figure you out!"

"It's quite simple, really - I think it's so difficult for you because of the word, but change it with another common fear - Ghosts, for example." he rolled his eyes impatiently. "Irene Adler feared ghosts, but I didn't believe in them - So if both of us were thrown in a Haunted Mansion, I would easily find my way out of the house, while she would stumble around in the dark, terrified and foggy-minded."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything from the case?" he was quickly losing his patience.

"Everything." the girl smiled kindly. "Irene was over-confident; She was certain she made you fall madly in love with her - So she decided to be smug about it. She was certain she would beat you - Her love for you had nothing to do with her ruination - It was her pride that was her downfall." his eyes widened a little. "It was the same for you." she said. "Your overconfidence was your downfall."

"Okay, fine, so?" he urged her to keep going.

"So - Mycroft called me in his office that time to make sure I take care of you, and have the case solved. And I did." she spoke simply, with a shrug. "It wasn't difficult to see how much both of you were enjoying your little game of cat and mouse. I already had an inkling she'd changed the password to something that would be related to you - But once I heard she contacted Moriarty for help, I knew immediately what she did."

"I don't understand." he let out a big exhale. "I don't bloody understand!" he grunted under his breath. "That... That jerk... He knew that I... And I proved him right to doubt me..."

"Take it easy. We all learn from our mistakes. It's just important not to let pride get the better of us." she hummed, sipping again. She didn't really think she was getting through to Sherlock.

"Katrina..." he sounded... Weak. Vulnerable. He placed his hands over her cheeks, looking down into her gorgeous blue-green eyes. They were so sincere, so beautiful, so precious. "Tell me - What do you feel. Explain it to me. Make me understand." he gulped, blinking a few times. "Please." he didn't sound very comfortable saying a genuine 'please'. Emotions scared him.

"What I feel? Well... I'm not sure if words can explain it. It's something that is intuitively felt and understood, rather than rationally explained." she began, trying to figure out the right words. "When I hear your name being spoken by someone, I smile without realising." he nodded. "When I see you, I feel my heart fluttering with joy." he nodded again. "When I'm in your presence, I feel safe and reassured, as if nothing bad can exist in the world." it took a while, but he nodded again.

"How did you... When... Why...?" he sounded incoherent.

"I don't know." she shrugged. "Maybe it began when I first met you. You're physically attractive and fascinatingly intelligent - There's hardly anything not to love about you." her smile widened a little. "You can be a lot of negative things, yes - Arrogant, condescending, a liar, a manipulator, a nuisance and what not -- But you never displayed any of that with me. You made me feel special - Appreciated, even. And I've never felt that before from anyone else."

"But... I never..." he stammered again. "I specifically remember being around you when I told John I was married to my work and completely uninterested by anything else." he mumbled, seeing her nod in affirmation. "I must have hurt you."

"No - You hurt Molly, but not me." he seemed even more confused than before. "For me it doesn't matter whether it is romantic or purely platonic, as long as I continue being your friend. You are very dear to me, Sherlock. I appreciate you for who you are. Everything else is just a bonus - But nothing can take away from the special thing we share - You and I - Don't you think?"

He remained silent for a few seconds, gazing tenderly into her eyes, and then the corners of his mouth twitched a little, forming a mellow smile. "Yes - You are right. As always." as before, he placed a kiss on her forehead, then leaned in. "You are very special to me, Kat." with a subtle move, he took the glass from her hand, placing it back on the table. "More than anyone else." in spite of all common sense dictating him to return to his own flat and leave her alone - He couldn't. Sherlock felt, for the first time in his life, the soft lips of a beautiful woman, and the sweet taste of cherry lip balm she was using. Slow and unsure at first, but gradually growing bolder and more passionate, the detective couldn't get enough of her - His special friend, his darling Kat.

If love was a weakness for everyone else, it was the strength surging through Katrina's veins; And if she could be empowered by such a bold emotion, something so terrifying, so unpredictable... If she could be strong, so can he. Katrina’s lips were still tingling from the kiss, a soft hum of warmth spreading through her as she gently touched her lips, just where she'd been kissed... The air between them seemed to grow still, as if the moment itself was something too fragile to disrupt. Sherlock’s forehead rested against hers, his usually restless eyes now calm and searching, a quiet vulnerability in them that he didn’t often allow anyone to see.

“I didn’t plan this...” Sherlock whispered, his voice rough, the words spilling out as if they carried more weight than he'd intended. "Forgive me -- I don't know what came over me, I just--"

“I know.” Katrina replied, her tone light but filled with understanding. “You don’t have to explain.” she continued, her hand placed gingerly over his chiseled face. "I am happy that you did that."

He pulled back, breaking the delicate connection they’d shared. His hands, so accustomed to control and precision, now seemed to falter, unsure of where to place themselves. He stepped away, pacing the room, the space between them growing as he struggled with the storm inside his mind. His fingers absently tugged at his shirt cuffs, trying to smooth away the disarray that felt so foreign to him.

“What you feel for me...” he started again, but his voice trailed off, as if the words were too difficult to form. “It doesn’t make sense. You said it yourself - I can be selfish, calculating… Cold and even cruel. I’ve never been the type to search for love from people. I've only ever lamented over my work.” he stopped pacing and turned to face her, a mixture of frustration and confusion in his gaze. “Why would you…?”

"But Sherlock, you are wrong." she smiled sweetly. "Has anyone ever told you how sad you look when you think no one is watching you?" Katrina watched him with a quiet intensity, her heart sensing the weight of his struggle. She took a slow step forward, her presence steady and warm as she closed the distance between them. “Do you think love is something that can be reasoned with, Sherlock? Something we can control or dissect, just like we do with science?” she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. “It’s not something we choose. It just happens. Like breathing, like gravity. You don’t stop to calculate each breath, you just… Breathe.”

His lips curled into a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “And you breathe for me?”

Her smile softened, filled with affection and a trace of amusement. “I’ve been breathing for you longer than you think.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind turning over her words, trying to analyze them in the way he did with everything else. But this… This was different. “You don’t make sense, Katrina. You…” he paused, his voice quieter now. “It’s maddening,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Everything about you — Your kindness, your unpredictability, your ability to see through me — It defies everything I thought I understood. It’s like trying to solve a case where the answer keeps shifting.”

“And yet, here you are.” Katrina teased, gesturing to the room around them. “You came to me.”

“I couldn’t stop myself.” he admitted, his voice low. “The noise in my head… It was unbearable. Every misstep, every mistake — I could hear it over and over again. Failing the nation, disappointing Mycroft, losing to Irene and Moriarty..." he gulped, hanging his head. "But then I thought of you, and it… Quieted.” Sherlock’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, it seemed as if the world outside had faded, leaving only the two of them in the quiet of the room. He exhaled deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he let her words settle in.

Her heart swelled at his confession, though she kept her expression steady. “That’s what love does, Sherlock. It’s not a weakness. It’s not a flaw. It’s—” she paused, searching for the right words. “— A kind of strength. The kind that makes us better, even when we don’t understand it.” he looked at her then, as though seeing her clearly for the first time.

“You make it sound so… Simple. I never understood that about you. I took you for a fool, a human with human emotions - And yet, every time, you had these... These revelations that I just... I couldn't come up with. Out of nowhere, even! You are simply impossible to understand, Katrina!”

“Sherlock - Love is simple. Feeling, also, is simple. You just need to stop being afraid of it, and accept it. Once you do, things will happen naturally.” they stood in silence for a moment, the city’s distant hum the only sound. Then, almost hesitantly, Sherlock reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. Katrina didn’t pull away; instead, she laced her fingers with his, grounding him.

“But… What if I fail you too?” His voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way that caught her off guard. “What if I disappoint you, like I’ve disappointed everyone else?”

Katrina shook her head gently, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw. “As long as you remain the Sherlock that I know... Then you cannot fail me." she smiled, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. The 'you' that I fell in love with. Brilliant, dramatic, cocky, arrogant, funny, witty, confident, silly, childish, playful... And I could go on the whole day.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat as he processed her words. His mind, so used to ration and logic, was lost in this moment. He took a step closer to her, the space between them now nothing but a memory. His hand reached up, tentative at first, before resting gently against her cheek. “I don’t know if I can love you the way you want me to... No - The way you deserve to be loved.” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly.

Katrina’s thumb traced the outline of his jaw, her touch grounding him. “Just do what you've always done, and we are good." she encouraged him. "No need for big changes - That's always scary - Just be yourself and act naturally with me. You'll figure things out soon enough."

For a long moment, he stood still, as if considering the weight of her words. Then, almost imperceptibly, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound so simple. How annoying." Sherlock’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slowly, as if testing the waters. His lips brushed against hers, a delicate touch, hesitant but sincere - This time, he kissed her willingly, not out of impulse. It felt different... It felt... Somehow special. When he pulled back, he let out a stressed exhale, as though the weight of the world had shifted just a little bit.

“I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Katrina smiled, her hand resting over his heart. “That’s not for you to decide.” she slowly wrapped her arms around his torso, engulfing him into a loving embrace.

In the quiet of the room, Sherlock felt something he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge — Peace. For once, the noise in his mind faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, with Katrina in his arms, he didn’t need to have all the answers.

And for Sherlock Holmes, that was temporarily enough.

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[yandereaffections]

Sherlock Masterlist

Moriarty

Crushes Brother is in debt to him

Crime boss kidnapping S/o

Sherlock vs Moriarty

Demon Queen S/o

Comforting S/o after watching a Scary Movie

Mycroft vs Moriarty

Kidnapping Headcannons

Bloody Wedding

Famous S/o getting creepy gifts

Jealous

Pregnant S/o Escaping

S/o pregnant with Sherlocks Child

Jealous cause S/os getting attention at the Gym

S/o Breaking Down over a Halloween Prank

Physically weak s/o

Sherlock vs Moriarty: S/os birthday fluff

Sherlock vs Moriarty: getting S/os attention

Smart S/o yet is too trusting

Fighting over a S/o whos great at singing

Affection HC

How he shows his love when off on work

Finding themselves stuck in the amazon with S/o

Finding themselves stuck in the amazon with S/o prt 2

Encouraging S/o to get candy with their rival

S/o being spiteful and challenging him

S/o playing horror games

S/o who barely eats TW

S/o who comes from a long line of assassins and government officials

Sherlock Holmes

This is for your Protection

S/o who he cant read

Sherlock vs Moriarty

Sherlock vs Mycroft

Possessive S/o

Vampire Sherlock

Sending Sherlock a Love Letter

Halloween Date

Life Threatening Situation

S/o getting overprotective when Sherlocks insulted

Bed Sharing

Timid S/o being harassed by their ex

Hacker Crush realizing their Husbands having a Affair

Crush found stood up

Being the cause of S/os Amnesia

“Keep your sluttish hand away from MY man.”

“Youre all i think about”

Whipped and Soft for S/o

Jealousy Headcannons

S/o whos stressed over School

Single Parent S/o

Fluffy Headcannons

S/o who is scared of relationships for theyve never been in one

American S/o

Yandere Letter

Murder Mystery

S/o who charges straight into danger

Extremely calm S/o

How hard he fell for S/o

S/o who always accompanies him on cases

Sick S/o

How he shows his love

Sherlock vs Moriarty: getting S/os attention

Sherlock vs Moriarty: S/os birthday fluff

Fighting over a S/o whos great at singing

Finding themselves stuck in the amazon with S/o

Finding themselves stuck in the amazon with S/o prt 2

Encouraging S/o to get candy with their rival

Getting S/o a puppy

Formal business S/o dropping everything when he wants them

S/o who plays minecraft a lot

Christian S/o

Mycroft Holmes

Headcannons

Sherlock vs Mycroft

Asking him to sign a marriage certificate

Mycroft vs Moriarty

Trying to Escape

Dense Crush

Irene Adler

Headcannons

Sherlock

NS FW Headcannons

Sub Sherlock cumming in his pants 

Irene

NS FW Headcannons

[allsortzofcrap]

i feel like for the rest of my life i will be walking around totally normal and then periodically, i will be absolutely brained with a metaphorical anvil falling off the side of a building that represents the absolute bafflement i have towards modern adaptations of sherlock holmes and their treatment of irene adler. bbc's most recent adaptation in particular.

im so sorry. please repeat. she was stupid u say??? and i'm sorry, IN LOVE with him u say??????

i'm a feminist so i think women are capable of being in love and also of being stupid. they can do anything they put their minds to ofc ❤️. but this is too far even for me.

it's just that i can't understand why you would choose to write a narrative that is more mysoginistic than the source material when the source material was written in 1891.

was it intentional? did they somehow not pick up on the implications? was it random?

i can't fathom it. it keeps me awake.

[asherloki]

I recently saw a site on Google, that discussed what would be the ideal woman for Sherlock. That evoked question, does he really need an extraordinary woman ? With being stated that his only bestfriend is a humble doctor. He might actually like someone normal. That site had this argument that molly is better choice than irene in terms of BBC and I do agree. Yet I think in my head he doesn't want any of those.

For him my headcanon ideal woman is someone who's intelligent. Not genius consulting detective or consulting criminal. Who's normal. Like molly get's this point because she's pathologist, someone highly educated and efficient in her job. So someone who's educated and ambitious, I think he'd like a woman with purpose. A woman who's not just a house wife. She would also have a side hobby like he has his violin, she would have conversation with him, intellectual infront of people, rubbish in private. My headcanon she'd insist him to watch Disney films too. Yeah so someone pretty normal. She'd have her own style, and whatever it is Sherlock wouldn't want her to change, though he'd prefer natural beauty than superficial. So someone who is beautiful to him without makeup but whenever she does makeup he won't be able to look away. It's absolutely stupid of me to think he'd love a bit of childishness. Like he'd love to cuddle her, someone who'll take care of him. A normal woman who wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerability, someone who'd listen to his stories. But also a woman who's not clingy, who would give him enough space. I know I mentioned Disney movies but I think he won't like someone too soft and toooo romantic. I would like someone with him who's romantic but not too much. Now she has to be someone who'd stand up for herself. Not someone who has to be told what's right and what's wrong. Someone who has her own morals and stands by it. Also someone who would listen to him, praise him like he would. Advice him and most importantly support him. Wouldn't mind being the supporting role of Sherlock's story. And when it's her turn to be the main character, in her field of work or in life in general, Sherlock would love to stand behind and say "you're the main character, and I love to be your side kick". Basically they would let eachother shine when it's their turn. So in a nutshell, an ordinary woman, with a bit of ambition (good one like getting a good job and all not any criminal intention) also humble and would always support him, kind and intelligence, a bit childish, like talking all the time or liking stuffs that are simple and cute, so someone who's sweet. So someone innocent. After facing notoriety through the day he'd love to come home and be welcomed by a smile, a warm hug and lots of warm love.

Now since it's Sherlock he'd love to have some with whom he can argue logically. So bonus , she must be logical.

That's my big rant. What's your headcanon ideal woman for Sherlock?

[forevers-world]

Imagine being Irene's favorite client.

[mangled-by-disuse]

(prev tags:) #thats genuinely so funny#i pitch that also holmes and watson dont know who she is/what she looks like and one or both have decided thats shes their friend#so not only are they a menace to her in her professional life but also in her personal one#or theyre friends with her fiancee and shes struggling to explain to him exactly why he cant invite them to the wedding#irene adler

this is the best addition to date honestly, we DO already know that she can disguise herself in a way Holmes doesn't immediately see through, and she would totally use a Good Disguise And Fake Identity after escaping, and that's so funny

irene like oh my god this is a TRAP it's a TRICK they are going to SELL ME OUT and RUIN MY LIFE i'd better keep playing along so they don't know that i know that they know that i've still got blackmail material

holmes and watson like man aren't you so glad we met that lovely woman schmirene schmadler

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.

[distinguishedkryptonitecreator]

𝕸𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖞'𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖒

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Series: Sherlock BBC

MASTERLIST

I II

Synopsis: You discover that you are in love, unfortunately with the same man your friend loves. How will you survive that?

Note: English is not my native language, so some words may not make sense, apologies in advance.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈

━━━━♡

Shopping centers began to clog due to the large number of people who preferred to buy gifts at special discounts in stores and toy stores. Something you never understood, since the prices went up since the middle of the year and when the expected day arrived, they only discounted a couple of tickets, nothing fancy, however you never complained when Molly dragged you through the aisles of the shops with lights excessively bright colors.

The Christmas season had arrived ahead of schedule.

But this time, you couldn't tune in to her holiday cheer because of all the onslaught of situations you hadn't sought and now had to endure. After all, guilt doesn't dissolve so easily.

Earlier, she had called you in the hope that you would join her in choosing a dress for the little gathering that Mrs. Hudson and John were organizing in Baker Street. And you probably would have said no, except for the bouncy voice in which she prattled on about the fruit punch the kind landlady would make and the color of wrapping paper she planned to buy. It was a breath of fresh air to feel her so vibrant and excited, after all, every day of the year she locked herself in a morgue with depressing white walls, with a large number of scalpels and open corpses on the plate, making reports, enduring the Pine smell from products the place was cleaned with. It was definitely not something she would put up with, at least not willingly. Or sober.

Simple reasons that made him consider the little coroner one of the most interesting people he would have hoped to meet. Her character, the kindness that appeared in his eyes every time he tried to explain something, kindness and shyness, characteristics so predictable but at the same time so contrary that no one would think of finding in a person who lives daily with the remains of death. . Molly was special, you knew that. She had shown you that there was much more goodness and value than you expected to find in your soul. That's why she decided to bite her tongue and refrain from any stupidity that might come out of her mouth on occasions like this, when she could brighten her life a little.

But again you couldn't help feeling hypocritical to see her walk between shelves and sideboards, browsing silky and satin fabrics, waiting for Molly to decide for the fifth time between the dress on the sideboard or the black one that she was hers. She was supposed to shop, though you really stopped caring about the extra time she was taking when you walked out of the store together with a few bags and a smile on her face.

"So?" she asked as they walked through the door of a coffee shop and lined up to place her orders. "Do you already know what to wear?"

"What are you talking about?"

An almost obvious look crossed her features before he punctuated her question.

"The Christmas party, it's in a couple of weeks, in case you forgot that John invited you too"

The line was not advancing and you felt the gears in your head grow stronger as the answer slipped from your tongue.

"I don't know, actually, I'm not sure if I can go, I have a lot of work, the website that I'm redesigning is taking longer than I thought"

Liar.

"Indeed? I thought the customer you were supporting was okay with the changes you made.

"Yes, me too, but then again, he is one of the most important and influential clients the company has," you shrugged at Molly's suspicious look, "it's just a meeting anyway."

Sure, and that's why you're avoiding her.

Molly looked at you for a few more seconds before she was called from the counter and ordered again, a sigh of relief flowing from your lips at the tension that formed in your shoulders, you had so many things to say and at the same time you felt Prey to them, guilt swirled like autumn leaves in your conscience and you didn't know how to escape it.

If only she knew that the only reason you didn't want to come back to Baker Street is the same reason she went to all the trouble to show up and look stunning.

Sherlock Holmes had definitely started to be not only a sleeping problem for Molly, but also a psychosis that followed you every step you took, although you know that it wasn't all his fault and you frankly didn't have time to think about it when in one of their cases Sherlock and you kissed.

If only you had thought through the consequences before allowing the act, maybe you wouldn't be sitting across from your best friend with a broken heart, hoping none of your expressions would give you away. Because yes, the only truth why you hadn't returned to Baker Street since that rainy afternoon is that you didn't even know what had happened, or maybe you did, just that you had gotten into other things that you hadn't realized until you were already stuck in the mud.

You had fallen in love with the man behind the trench coat and blue scarf, the same man who could look at you and tell you that you had an Americano with the queen or held up a real estate agency after eating a sandwich, the man with whom you had formed a strange relationship . connection, one that had become quite clear in the eyes of the little army medic who lived with the consulting detective.

You had fallen in love with the man your friend loved.

And fuck, you felt bad.

"I know it's probably none of my business, but are you okay? I mean, you've been acting a little weird the last few weeks, I'm a little worried." You didn't say anything until they sat down, Molly's words beginning to sour each sip. of coffee, if she only knew.

"Honestly, there's nothing wrong with me, I'm completely fine," you assured her, hoping that somehow everything you said was convincing enough for Molly to put aside that catty curiosity that characterized her so much. You didn't want to think that for now.

  To your dismay, Molly was overly observant and intelligent and you had no doubt that she would not have believed one iota of those words that came out of your mouth, yet she was always a good person and friend, you knew she would never do anything to pressure you or push you, because that was Molly, and you were so ashamed of the fact, because after all she was the only true friend you had in so long, as well as being loyal and supportive and even if she didn't owe you anything.

You try to stay positive and not ruin Molly's evening, after all, she took the time to ask you out and she actually looked really excited. Guilty or not, who were you to take that away from him?

So they put the matter aside, spent the entire afternoon talking and shopping for the latest products on the list.

However, when you got to your apartment, the memories flooded you again, you started to miss the afternoons in Baker Street, with John, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock...

You had gotten so used to being there that you even spent more time in that place and on the streets running with the dynamic duo than in your apartment. No doubt the change affected you. But you were sure that you were rational, proud and strong enough not to lose your mind, or so you thought.

Three weeks had already passed since that event, John had sent you several text messages trying to find out your whereabouts, so you decided to reassure him with the same excuse that you had given to Molly, assuring him that once you were free you would take a walk. Lucky for you, he didn't ask any more and you were more than grateful.

For now you want to clear your head, because that fact had completely scrambled your ideas, maybe the situation wouldn't have affected you so much if you weren't in love with him, but there was still the fact that you weren't sure what you felt, not even you understood what had happened and the random text messages he received from Sherlock didn't help much. He wasn't affected at all?

You refused to believe that he wasn't, but a part of you knew that maybe you had thought things too much, maybe you just exaggerated the situation a little.

What's more, it probably wasn't that important to Sherlock, after all you already knew him and you knew perfectly well that the only thing that had happened that day was something they had to do to prevent his alibi from being discovered, but that didn't alleviate or silence the voices. in your head.

And as much as you tried to appear independent and strong, you could still feel that nervous feeling that always stings you. Your history of past intrapersonal relationships has given you an extremely accurate prediction and you will most likely end up giving yourself away or stuttering like a high school girl or doing anything that causes you utter humiliation and embarrassment, in short, something you would not want to happen. at least not again.

You needed to coolly calculate the situation and not lose your head trying.

And for now, as childish as it sounds, avoiding was your best option, you need to gather your courage because you were sure that sooner or later you will have to face the coming storm.

You just hoped you had enough time.

Although probably the prayers you prayed to heaven were not heard or so you thought when one afternoon when it was extremely difficult for you to return to your apartment due to the amount of snow that covered the streets, you felt a familiar aura wrap around the gloomy walls of your apartment. Any hint of concern or doubt began to grow as soon as you heard seemingly familiar voices coming from your living room, and as soon as you crossed the threshold of your apartment you saw it clearly, the shadows had turned into perfectly structured figures. John and surprisingly Mycroft were sitting in your living room apparently discussing something important, however their conversation ended as soon as they noticed your presence. They turned to you.

Your look of confusion did not wait.

What the hell are they doing here?

You didn't even have a moment to think about the situation because a British voice interrupted you.

"Miss, it is a great pleasure to have your company, we were wondering about you."

You raised an eyebrow at the sharp-tongued comment from the man wearing the suit, you weren't in the mood to play at the moment and as much as you needed a distraction, you wanted to rest, you had spent the whole day walking and solving things that when you found yourself stuck in traffic you couldn't help but feel irritated.

John greeted you kindly from his seat..

"As much as I appreciate meetings, surprises overwhelm me." You earned a quizzical look from the perfectly seated government man as if he was about to have a chat with the queen.

"I thought my presence was pleasing to you, miss."

A small giggle escaped your lips, but you silenced it before resuming a neutral expression.

  "How did they get in?" you corrected "forget it, that doesn't matter, the real question is why?"

The two looked debutatively at each other for a couple of seconds before John spoke.

"We're sorry to show up at your apartment like this, actually, we didn't mean to intrude like this, but we needed your help."

My help? How the hell am I going to help the queen's secret service?

John seemed to see the doubt on your face. "Yes, I know these are not the right conditions, but we need information."

"And you seem best suited for the task," Mycroft interjected.

The gears of his brain began to rattle before a possible answer slipped across his tongue: "And what kind of information could I have?"

"Well, let's start with...

"How much do you know about Thomas Beckett?" This voice. You'd know that voice anywhere and you wouldn't have to turn around to see Sherlock coming out of your kitchen with a cup of tea in hand. He sat down in one of your lonely chairs and looked at you expectantly.

You did everything you could not to lose your composure. It was obvious, Mycroft and John wouldn't be here without him, you were so foolish not to assume. However, your only concern vanished as soon as your gaze collided with his electric blue eyes.

━━━━♡

[sing-a-songofsix-pence]

irene adler's adaptations make me so cross. there's the obvious tragedy that clearly barely any of the writers even READ a scandal in bohemia, but also. it couldve been SO GOOD. she and holmes shouldve been besties, not 'in love' with each other.

imagine an irene adler that's holmes' penpal. an irene adler that gives THE sherlock holmes tips on his cases, writing from the backstage of her latest opera. imagine an irene adler who comes over for brunch with holmes after the king of bohemia meets his inevitable untimely end. an irene adler whose husband is vaguely concerned about this until he gets invited too and meets watson. most importantly, imagine an irene adler who actually gets called irene NORTON

[holyadoptionpapersbatman]

*twirls hair*Sooooooooo, there's this post by @brucewaynehater101 of a Sherlock AU

And, this is a 'Yes, and' site. Rather than go, 'Yes, but imagine', I've decided to make a separate post *giggles*

Bernard Dowd as Irene Adler.

For those who don't know, In the original books by Sir Conan, Irene Adler is a character that could match Sherlock's wit. I'm just going off on memory here, but some King was scared of being blackmailed because he was about to get married and he had a previous relationship with Irene. Irene also had pics of him and her together, and he was scared that this is the blackmail that could be used against him and stop the marriage. So, he calls Sherlock, Sherlock makes up plans and creates traps. And every single time, Irene manages to evade him, and cunningly trap him back. Sherlock never wins.

In the end, Sherlock realizes that the reason why Irene kept the photo was to avoid the King's wrath. She also goes tells him that she's about to be married, and the king really don't need to give a shit of where she's at.

As payment for all the hard work Sherlock had done, he asks the King for a picture of Irene, and the rest is history!! (BBC's Irene Adler is a Badass Dominatrix *swoons*)

SO----

Say Tim (Sherlock in this AU) and Kon (Watson in this au) are both adults in this non-superpowers AU. Kon, finding out that Tim had a horrible history with women as lovers, jokes that maybe Tim should try his hand with guys (you're not subtle Kon).

It's at this moment that Zoanne shows up, Tim's old high school sweetheart. Apparently, she's now married with a kid. However, a few months back, she and her husband were fighting with each other, badly. She ended up flirting with a co-worker of hers: Bernard Dowd.

Tim remembers Bernard. He hasn't seen him since their friend, and his late girlfriend, Darla died.

Apparently, Zoanne and Bernard's 'relationship' turned into something more, but her relationship with her husband had also been on the mend. She confessed to Bernard that she was married, and that she chooses to go back to her husband. That was the last she's seen of him.

Inwardly she was worried that their relationship might get outed to her husband, but she was also worried about where Bernard might be and how the man was because he also hadn't been showing up to work for a whole week.

Tim and Kon get on the case, they figure out what Bernard had been up to. They discover that Bernard got caught up with some pain cult, the Cult of Dionysus, and that's he's been an established member for years. Tim tries his utmost best to convince Bernard to leave.

To Bernard, the way Tim planned to catch him, laid traps for him, and even tried dismantling the cult, was just both funny and adorable. He made plans and traps of his own to thwart Tim.

It all ends the moment Bernard reveals that he's been dismantling the cult on his own from the inside.

Tim asks if he was doing this to take his mind off the heartbreak, and Bernard reveals that, 'no!' He's never had much more than a fling in his romantic pursuits, and Zoanne wasn't any different. The confession just so happened to coincide his plans of taking down the cult, but it also gave him a good reason to disappear and hide under the 'impression' of a heartbreak.

The past week had been the most fun Bernard had in years. He tells Tim to tell Zoanne that she doesn't need to worry about him saying anything, and that he wishes her and her family well.

Tim is amazed by Bernard's cunning, and wondered why he's never seen this when they were both in high school. The two had been close at the hip in school, and the only constant about Bernard that Tim always noticed was that Bernard had always been a flirt with the girls, and had even attempted to flirt with Tim's stepmom.

Bernard gets into Tim's space, like he usually does, and wraps an arm around Tim's shoulders, winking towards Kon, who was just aggressively confused on why he was getting a little bit angry.

Then, he gives Tim the number to his burner phone. Bernard says that he might not contact Tim, but he'd never miss a call should Tim end up using it. Tim keeps the number under a photo of them both in high school that was framed in his room.

Bernard quits his job, because although the cult in the city he lived in is dismantled, it doesn't mean they didn't exist in other places. It's not safe for him to stay in one place.

He bids Tim goodbye, and for the rest of the AU, his mind would sometimes come back to Bernard.

Weeks or months later, Jason (who I headcanon as Mycroft...) and Kon tells Tim that Bernard Dowd had been killed off in some foreign country after successfully taking down the whole cult. Tim emotionlessly sips his energy drink, while reminiscing in a flashback of going on a 'business trip', saving Bernard's life, but also killing off Bernard's 'identity'.

Somewhere out there, Alvin Draper is relieved of his international crimes and works professionally for the FBI.

[a-forbidden-detective]

‘It’s between lovers’

RonToto shippers, we have our own version of Gojo-Geto off JJK0 or the Whisper scene from “Lost in Translation.”

I admit that plot-based voice cancellation is the least favorite trope of mine. But, what is it exactly?

Sometimes, one line can change everything — for the characters as well as the audience. So, often, if that line has to come up early on, it will be cancelled out by some other noise, such as a truck passing or a plane taking off, or, in the case of dream worlds and other special cases, for no obvious reason whatsoever.

After being annoyed trying to find out from the mouth of Sofia Coppola what actually could Bob mean when he whispered something to Charlotte , she had this to say on the film’s 15th anniversary,

Just acknowledging that week meant something to both of them and it affects them going back to their lives. People always ask me what’s said. I always like Bill’s answer: that it’s between lovers – so I’ll leave it at that.”

Or Gojo’s words that made Geto say “You should at least curse me at the end.”

The only thing that was definite and official is that Ron says“thank you” to Toto, courtesy of Crunchyroll.

But Ron’s speech was long and if you look at Toto’s reaction it would be a life-altering moment. This isn’t the simple declaration of comradeship. This is something more intimate thinking that the anime crew knows the implications of these scenes to the viewers. They understand what are we going to say after we watch the scenes unfold. The effects, the way the story will evolve after this arc.

Toto’s pupils are dilated for one. His mouth is a complete O. These appearances are not part of the manga. These are anime exclusive.

What did Sherlock say about dilated pupils?

Irene Adler: Oh, dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?

Sherlock Holmes: No... because I took your pulse: elevated; your pupils: dilated. I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait; how true of you. The combination to your safe: your measurements - but this… [taking her cell phone] ... this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.

How about the scientific side of it :

Why Eyes Dilate: Increased Oxytocin

Oxytocin is the warm and fuzzy love hormone released after intimate connection. In empathic, healthy people (i.e. not psychopaths), oxytocin gets released after a hug, a sweet conversation, seeing a baby, or connecting strongly with someone. When oxytocin releases, pupils often dilate too.

The censored dialogue might irritate me along with the non-announcement of season 3. But, I still keep optimistic bc for the meantime we have these chapters animated. It is in our power to reinterpret it through fan fiction and fan arts. I just hope that this is not the end of interpreting Akira Amano’s work to our TV or handy screens.

[ofmdrecaps]

12/07-08/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; GCC Columbus 2024: Con, Vico, Nathan, Kristian; Anapela Polata'ivao; Guz Khan; Fan Spotlight: One More Song; Gay Pirate News Hour; Love Notes;

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys has been keeping our hearts full these last several days! First up, he was featured in a NZHerald Article!

Source: NZHerald Instagram

Next up, Rhys decided to show of his regal side!

Source: Rhys' Instagram

Check out this episode of BahHumbug with Helen O'Hara with Rhys about #ThatChristmas! Spotify Episode

Source: Helen O'Hara's Bsky

== Con, Vico, Nathan, Kristian ==

This past weekend, Con, Vico, Nathan, and Kristian were out in Columbus Ohio at Galaxy Con! As you can see by the photos below, the sheer amount of Pirates that were that was immense! I've read so many wonderful stories from all our crewmates on every social media platform-- and it sounded like an absolute divine experience! It sounds like some folks got some food poisoning thought! I hope you all are feeling so much better by now!

Con sent a very sweet note after the con on his Threads (I ran out of screenshots on tumblr so here it is in text!): "Dear people of galaxyconcolumbus we can we saw (we got horrible food poisoning but that's another story) and we meet the most beautiful, powerful, weird, filthy souls and you touched our hearts. Thanks you one and all for the glorious weekend ... you are loved, your are powerful, you are the future. Don't walk...fly x"

Source: Con's Instagram

Nathan apparently found his favorite food ever at the hotel coffee shop in Columbus, he posted more than once about them. Anyone from the con know what's in those? 👀

Some of you may recognize Joel Perez from Helluva Boss amongst other voice work! Vico and Nathan got to hang with him at GCC!

Source: Mister Joel Perez' Instagram

Vico kept us well fed with pictures of their Izzy Drag costume and pics hanging with Con at the One More Song Drag & Variety show!

Source: Vico's Free Patreon

The absolute sweetest, badass crewmate out there-- Irene Adler was kind enough to let me share these pictures of Con at the OFMD Panel. These shots gave me some wonderful laughs and you can just feel the joy there, thank you Irene!

Source: Irene Adler's Instagram

== OFMD Panel ==

If you haven't already - please send @adoptourcrew all the love for transcribing everything in such detail from the OFMD Panel at Galaxy Con Columbus! They've been very sweet to keep us apprised of these events! If you're on bsky, please visit their thread here and give them some love!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Bsky

= Anapela Polataivao =

In non convention related news -- Our brilliant Auntie, Anapela Polata’ivao received 'Director of the Year In Honour Of Richard Campion' for The Savage Coloniser Show at the 2024 Wellington Theatre Awards!

Source: Petmal Petelo's Instagram

= Guz Khan =

And something fun -- Guz was out on Michael Mcintyre's The Wheel!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by BBC iPlayer (@bbciplayer)

Source: Guz Khan's Instagram

= Fan Spotlight =

= One More Song =

From what I hear, the One More Song Drag and Variety show was absolutely unforgettable! Between all the extremely talented performers-- Con's attending his first drag show, and Vico's stellar performance, you can just feel the buzzing of energy popping out of the screen-- I can't even imagine what it was like in person! Not only was it fabulous, but the proceeds raised were for an amazing cause -- the Kaleidoscope Youth Center. The version on youtube is just the live version, they'll be working on a full edited version of the show. You can follow their social media accounts @onemoresongofmd. In the meantime, if you would like to donate to the Kaleidoscope Youth Center cause you can do so here: https://kyc.app.neoncrm.com/forms/onl... and if you'd like to let them know One More Song is how you found them, they'd greatly appreciate it!

Source: GretchaSketches Youtube

= Gay Pirate News Hour =

Still looking for more convention coverage? Well look no further! Our crewmats over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction (with Carly and Andrea!) were able to get on the line with @ringasunn and Con and Nathan!

Source: Gay Pirate News Hour Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey there Lovelies! Gosh the amount of love and sheer joy I've heard about from the convention is just beyond belief. I've talked to so many different folks, that span from all across the fandom, and everyone has such beautiful stories of camaraderie and kindness! I wanted to say-- Some of my dear friends passed on your well wishes (I wasn't able to make it even though I really wanted to and was planning on it earlier in the year) and hearing that some of you were thinking of me really warmed my heart (I may have cried a bit, but it was a good cry). So thank you so much, the message did reach me!

I don't think you all know just how much those of us who can't make it to conventions appreciate all the joy and fun you all share on your socials. We're getting a glimpse of the glee there and it helps us feel like we're not missing out on the wonder of this fandom. I saw the group selfie, and you know what? It made me so very happy. I recognized SO VERY MANY of you, even though we've never met in person. I see your smiling faces across social media, and even if I only know you by your online handle, I've come to know so many of you and so when you all get together like this-- it's like the best thing in the world. Getting to see so many people I recognize and interact with and care about all in one place having such a great time is honestly just such a wonderful gift. I know that we're a few days after the convention now, and I know a lot of folks are experiencing Post-Con depression/funk and I just wanted to send you a reminder that nothing is over. You aren't in person anymore right now, but your presence is everywhere, and people get genuine joy from it and you every single day. If you're feeling the drop in dopamine, remember to drink some water, get some rest, and pop back on when you're ready. We love you crew. Take care lovelies <3

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Source: The Latest Kate's Instagram

[lowliest-manifestations]

Okay! I'm finally putting together some of my more specific Bending the Willow thoughts and this passage:

"Perhaps it was as Jeremy Brett noted: 'Women want to possess him, while men want to be him.' There is certainly some truth in that statement, but the idea is incomplete. I believe male readers not only identify with Holmes, but also experience, in the same way that D. H. Lawrence identified what he referred to as a 'blood consciousness' between men, a kind of spiritual closeness akin to love."

Is making me the kind of insane that makes me want to write like 17 essays. But in absence of the time needed to actually do that here are some of my main thoughts in a more disorganized fashion:

Overall I've noticed a really wild amount of gender essentialism within Sherlockian communities/ scholarship, and I know that a lot of that can be chalked up to the fact that even modern writings are done mostly by older white men, but I also think there's something about the text itself that encourages this. Sherlock Holmes is pretty fucking victorian about gender (Irene Adler occupies a weird space but I do not believe she is in any way exempt from those attitudes.) and I think sometimes scholars find themselves reflecting the values of a text that they do not want to admit is imperfect.

I think this passage pinpoints exactly how a lot of people gender their expectations of how reader are to interact with Sherlock Holmes and texts like it, and Sherlock Holmes in turn becomes kind of weird for women to interact with. For the most part people want to see themselves somewhere in the text, but women in particular are told that we cannot find ourselves within the main character. Some people may be fine with that, lots of people don't want to relate to Holmes and their enjoyment of the text does not come from seeing themselves in that particular character. Some women also genuinely want to relate to the text by fantasizing about being in a relationship with Holmes, and more power to them, but their feeling is not a default, no matter how hard anybody pretends it is.

The fact is that plenty of women do want to be Holmes, and they face an interesting dilemma if they are trying to hold that while still operating under the framework hinted at in this passage. Instead of projecting onto him directly they must find ways to be close to him, be a reflection of him, be him but a girl (without replacing him! don't worry!). I think that's why there's sooo much fiction out there about secret sisters, female apprentices, wit-matching lovers etc. (I myself would pretend to be Sherlock Holmes' secret daughter as a kid. I bought into this shit!)

This framework is also not particularly normal about men who may not see themselves in Holmes at all and who may, in fact, also be capable of fantasizing about having a relationship with him! Queer men exist! (within this passage in fact.) And I know Stuart Davies did not mean to acknowledge this when he wrote of "a kind of spiritual closeness akin to love." but he does put it somewhat homoerotically in a way that left me reeling a little bit.

I do understand the feeling described by Stuart Davies, even if the way he writes of it makes me laugh a little in its dramatics. I simply do not think it is a feeling exclusive to men... I don't think any feelings are exclusive to any gender. And in the end I think that's the idea that really frustrates me.

Of course this passage is also from 1996, it's a product of its time, I get it. I also know that people have had More expansive/critical/interesting ideas about Sherlock Holmes in relation to gender before and since it was written, and I don't think it reflects what everyone really believes. BUT I do think it hit the nail on the head of a phenomena I have noticed since childhood and affirmed that I wasn't imagining things. While also being. Kind of funny.

[miniherodesktales]

Too bad we never got to see the boys play a Sherlock Holmes TIV game in RD.

Can you imagine them trying to solve the Hound of Baskerville case?

Cat: So what is it??

Kryten: It's the footprint of a gigantic hound, Cat.

Cat: A what?

Rimmer: A very big dog that glows in the dark? Aliens! Alien dogs!

Lister: When do we get to meet Irene Adler?

Kryten: Listen! There's no aliens, no curries, and no romantic entanglements with a femme fatal!! In fact there's no romance whatsoever, just two lonely men thrown together who end up living together and spending their lives together and can't bear to be apart as they solve grizzly murders and strange mysteries! Now I ask you, what's so romantic about that????

Lister: No idea, man.

Rimmer: Yes, I wouldn't know anything about that.

Cat: so what is it???

[riddlerosehearts]

list of acd canon sherlock holmes things i absolutely love

(and am going to mostly put under a readmore because i made most of this list while rereading the entire canon so it is very long! listen i just think sherlock holmes is the best character ever and i need to share my love for him--)

immediately upon being introduced to watson he grabs him by the sleeve, starts excitedly showing off his bloodstain testing experiment, and claps his hands “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. once he finishes, his eyes glitter and he puts his hand on his heart and bows “as if to some applauding crowd conjured up by his imagination”.

watson: “i object to rows because my nerves are shaken”

holmes: “do you include violin playing in your category of rows?” he asked, anxiously

he’s noted to be extraordinarily knowledgeable and zealous in his studies, and yet on the same page it’s stated that he doesn’t know the earth travels around the sun and once watson tells him about it he immediately decides to forget about it because it’s not relevant to his work. this is where the famous “brain attic” monologue comes in.

watson writes this list about him and then throws it into the fire in despair:

has a habit of laughing in a way that’s described as bursting into an “explosion” or “roar” of laughter

frequently does this at crime scenes:

enlists a gang of street orphans to help him on his cases, pays them for their work, and generally treats them as equals but also playfully talks to them like a general to his soldiers

plays the violin for watson to help him get to sleep

is incredibly knowledgable on anything from different types of tobacco, to the ways one's trade can influence the form of their hands, to medieval pottery and stradivarus violins. and yet, i reiterate, does not know the earth revolves around the sun.

has a tendency of waxing poetic about the meaningless of existence, particularly when he’s bored from not having any cases to work on

once said about a dog “i would rather have toby’s help than that of the whole detective force of london”

used the word “doggy” when speaking to toby

once told watson “i don’t wish to be theatrical” despite all evidence to the contrary

disguises himself as an old man just to play a prank on watson

watson: “i think i had better go”

holmes: “not at all, doctor. stay where you are. i am lost without my boswell.”

is known to wiggle in his chair when he gets excited about a case

discovers that a man has tricked his own stepdaughter into a fake marriage so he can keep her at home and control her life and inheritance. acknowledges that said man hasn’t done anything illegal but still tells him “there never was a man who deserved punishment more” and that he ought to get whipped for what he did, and then goes to actually get his hunting crop, causing the man to run out the door at top speed

let a criminal go free because it turned out the man he murdered was trying to force said criminal’s daughter into an unwanted marriage

was suddenly made to participate in the wedding of someone he was tracking for a case, came home and laughed about it for several minutes, exclaimed “well, really!”, laughed for several more minutes, and only then did he actually tell watson what happened

responds to the king of bohemia insulting irene adler and saying she’s not on his level by saying coldly: “from what i have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your majesty”, which is basically him saying “actually she’s way better than you, so fuck off”

refused to shake said king’s hand

built a pillow fort in a client’s house so he could think better

let a poor jewel thief go because he cried, because it was christmas and therefore it was the season of forgiveness, and because the case was really easy anyway so it’s not his fault if the police are too stupid to solve it themselves

always reassures clients that they can trust him and watson and speak freely around them

is willing to waive his fee for clients who can’t afford to pay him, because according to him his profession is its own reward

this entire scene from speckled band when he gets confronted by his client’s abusive stepfather:

this nice little example of the gentleness he often displays with his clients:

the adventure of the copper beeches. just, all of it. a woman he doesn’t know comes to holmes for advice about a potential job she’s interviewed for and they both agree it sounds incredibly sketchy, she says she’s gonna take it anyway because she needs the money, and he’s like “well i wouldn’t want any sister of mine doing something like this but FINE i guess, just please write to us and let us know if you’re okay and if anything bad happens we’ll drop everything and come help you immediately”, and then the job does in fact turn out to be super sketchy and they drop everything and get on a train as soon as she writes to them

sometimes spends several hours out on walks through the park or the town with watson just relaxing and talking with him for the sake of it, despite watson frequently noting that holmes doesn’t have much appreciation for nature

“we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. i trust that we may do the same for you,” he says “in his easy, genial way” to a potential client who’s clearly very upset and sleep-deprived

is completely wrong about a particular case and asks watson to remind him of that case next time he gets overconfident

is noted by watson to be very neat and methodical in his methods and way of dress, while simultaneously being one of the messiest people ever who keeps his tobacco inside a persian slipper and his unopened letters held up by a knife in the center of his mantelpiece, keeps tons of criminal relics which apparently somehow end up in the butter dish sometimes, and keeps countless stacks of papers and documents all over the place

tells watson anecdotes about his past just to avoid cleaning up said documents

deliberately knocks over a table, shattering a glass fruit bowl which then sends oranges rolling all over the room, and then blames it on watson and runs away

says snarky things like “when gregson or lestrade are out of their depth–which, by the way, is their normal state” and “you’ve done very well, watson! it’s too bad you’ve missed everything of importance”

laughs when watson suggests he’s being modest about his abilities

picked up a rose and got all sappy and poetic about it

more specifically, picked up a rose and said that religion can be a science which involves a lot of careful deduction, and that flowers are a source of hope and proof of the goodness of god due to the fact that they aren’t a necessary part of life but are still so beautiful anyway

recovered an incredibly valuable government treaty for a client and had it served to him on a platter at breakfast because, in his own words, he “never can resist a touch of the dramatic”

faked his death and then revealed to watson that he was still alive in a manner that even he admitted was unnecessarily dramatic

had a full-scale wax model of himself created and used it to fool his enemies

made a diagram out of breadcrumbs to explain something to watson

broke into a blackmailer’s house for a case because he believed it to be morally justifiable, and admitted that he always thought he might make a good criminal

held watson’s hand while they were burgling said house together

twice

allowed said blackmailer to be murdered in front of him by one of his victims and then refused to take the case when asked because he just hated the guy that much

“flushed up with pleasure” when watson complimented him

asked watson to sell his medical practice and move back into 221b with him after the death of his wife. and then secretly gave a relative of his a ton of money to buy watson’s medical practice at the highest price watson would ask for, just so they could live together again

was nearly brought to tears by lestrade saying he was proud of him

let a dog lead him around on a case, multiple times in different stories

was very gentle with a client who he knew to be the victim of an abusive marriage and allowed the man who killed her husband to go free out of sympathy for their situation

noticed watson looking sad and touching his war wound and tried to cheer him up by echoing his thoughts and providing a deduction of how he knew what he was thinking

mentioned watson’s sparkling eyes in said deduction

talked about nothing but violins and his favorite violinist for an hour while he and watson had lunch together

likes going to classical music concerts and getting lost in the music

does scrapbooking

chuckles and rubs his hands together when he’s happy

this:

takes getting called "the devil himself" as a compliment

let a killer go because he had only killed in retaliation for the unjust murder of his lover, and holmes felt that he might’ve done the same if someone were to kill the woman he loved

on a completely unrelated note tells a guy who shoots watson “if you had killed watson you would not have got out of this room alive”

also reacted like this when watson got shot:

went undercover to supposedly give a guy secret government intelligence documents, and then gave him a book about bees instead

frequently disguised himself either for cases or just to fool watson and was noted to be a great actor

once disguised himself as an old woman with a parasol

tried the best he could to talk a young woman out of marrying a man who had a history of “collecting” women for sport and destroying their lives, and admitted to watson that he thought of her as he would think of his own daughter

was prone to “imp-like moods”

sent watson a message to come over at once ("if convenient--if inconvenient come all the same") just so he could infodump to him about dogs

wasn’t surprised that a dog died of grief shortly after its owner’s death, because of “the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs”

listened with great sympathy to a depressed woman who wanted to tell him her tragic story, picked up on hints that she was planning to commit suicide, talked her out of it by convincing her that her life does have value and then called her brave for choosing to live

got lost in thought looking out the window at the publicly funded elementary schools and randomly went on about how he believes they and the children who attend them are beacons of a brighter future

made hot cocoa for watson

shook hands with a baby

retired to the countryside to live on a farm and become a beekeeper.