#it's the moriarty/sherlock phase coming back to get me

[daemon-404]

murdochs been on tv recently

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

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

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[aristidetwain]

The Shared Dalek Universe of the 1960s: A Case Study

In 2011 (a little over ten years ago!), El Sandifer cited my dearly-beloved 1960s Who Annuals as examples of stories which ended up influencing the TV series many years down the line despite making an unrepentant hash of continuity. 

Her first example is that the Doctor is called Dr. Who, and that he alternates between being from Earth on one page, and not being from Earth three pages later. I would point out that TV was doing much the same thing in those days, and went on flip-flopping basically until Jon Pertwee, so it’s not a terribly good argument to begin with.

However, she spends more time pondering the Daleks of the comics. These Daleks, she notes, are very different from those on television at the time. There are hordes of them, they travel in fleets of saucers, and they’re ruled by the Emperor. This contradiction, she argues, later fed back into the TV series in the RTD era, when huge fleets of Daleks became the norm and, earlier but still well after the first burst of Annuals, in the form of Patrick Troughton facing a very different Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks.

In no way do I wish to undermine Sandifer’s ultimate conclusion that “canon” in the sense of diegetic consistency is a red herring of little importance, and what matters for any sane definition of ‘canon’ is whether a story is referenced at all, not whether it’s contradicted. 

However.

Having gone back to 1966′s The Dalek Outer Space Book, I have made a very startling discovery, in the story entitled The Secret of the Emperor. The rest is after the cut; I will leave you with a delightful panel from this story, showing the “bewildered” Dalek Emperor being bullied by knights at the Battle of Agincourt. (This is one of my favourite Doctor Who images ever, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face I am not sure I want to take you seriously.)

So, famously, when he debuted in the comics, the Dalek Emperor was not the giant, static Dalek later shown on television in The Evil of the Daleks and The Bad Wolf of the Ways; instead, he was golden, squat, and had a bulbous head; to house all the ego, one expects. 

Thus, most people will point at the fact that when the Doctor met “the Emperor” in The Evil of the Daleks, he resided in a huge tower-like casing in the Dalek City, as evidence that although ideas received a first treatment in the comics which later made it to screens, no direct continuity was intended; the comics’ Emperor was an alternate, a first draft, to be discarded once a more definitive TV portrayal emerged. 

And yet, of course, it is somehow appealing to think of the two as the same Dalek, isn’t it? John Peel (Dalek writer voted most likely to be a 19th century Victorian man who stumbled into a time eddy; it’s mostly the remarkable sideburns) spent a lot of time in his Dalek novels establishing the life story of the Dalek Prime, the First Dalek Ever, who transitioned from the globe-headed casing to the towery Evil one and then deeply regretted it, what with the “getting killed by his own infighting troops with no way to escape”.

But this is usually viewed as a retcon. A cute retcon, an admirable retcon even, but a retcon. My good friend and esteemed fellow canon-welder, @rassilon-imprimatur​, espoused such a view four years ago:

Well, all of this is, if you’ll pardon my French, bollocks. John Peel didn’t make anything up, except for the snappy name of “the Dalek Prime” as a designation for the individual. The Dalek Emperor in Evil of the Daleks was always the Emperor of the 1960s comics, and there is a very good reason for his seemingly-contradictory change of appearance. What’s more, I am not talking about murky authorial intent: these are things that the discerning Dalek fan in 1967 was meant to have known.

Let me wind back the clock to 1966. A Dalek master-plan is unfurling, a multi-media agenda spanning several years, more ambitious perhaps than even Time Lord Victorious in its scope; for the ultimate aim of a small cabal of men including David Whitaker, Terry Nation and Brad Ashton is nothing less than spinning the Daleks out of Doctor Who and into their own non-BBC TV show — to be made in America, and in colour, if you please! 

For over a year now, a Dalek story arc has been running in the pages of TV Century 21, tracking the early rise of the Dalek Empire and its early interactions with 2060s humanity. Though the Daleks encroach over other parts of the book, including the headline stories, the bulk of this story arc comes in the form of weekly one-page comics making up one long serialised history of the Daleks, under the minimalist title of The Daleks.

Also under the solo brand of “The Daleks”: Annuals, an exclusive audio story, and, of course, toys. Time for Phase Two. It is time to end the Daleks’ endless confrontations with Dr Who on television, and set the stage for a new status quo able to support the TV series Nation dreams about. 

Important background: Terry Nation, famously, does not like the Dalek Emperor. Whitaker made him up without consulting Nation, who maintains that the highest rank in the Dalek hierarchy should be the Dalek Supreme. The Emperor was hard to do away with in the comics, since he was basically the protagonist of the TV21 strip, but one imagines Nation was keen to jettison him from the world of the planned TV series. 

I am speculating, of course, but I picture Nation sitting in his office, pondering the two great thorns in the side of the Independant Daleks Masterplan. 

Thorn one: the Daleks are entangled with the Doctor both diegetically and symbolically; unless something can be done, the Daleks will remain “the Doctor’s enemies”, and a show where they commit evil and the Doctor fails to show up would ring false with the kids watching. The Daleks must be removed from Doctor Who in a sensational and definitive manner, or the whole enterprise is a nonstarter.

Thorn two: I, Terry Nation, have foolishly allowed David Whitaker to shape the lore of the Daleks, and he has made this Dalek Emperor guy very central to early Dalek history, leading up to the 22nd century Dalek Invasion of Earth that most of the Doctor’s subsequent conflicts with the Daleks have stemmed from. But I do not like the Dalek Emperor. I wish I could get rid of him in my new status quo. 

…………Aha.

A triumphant Terry Nation adds a post-it note to the ever-widening corkboard representing the multimedia Dalek Masterplan setting up the TV series, which must already include things like “convince Jean Marsh to come back as Sara Kingdom”. Notes distilled from this corkboard will form the backbone of The Dalek Outer Space Book, this year’s Dalek annual, which exists principally to set up the prospective main characters of the new TV series: Sara Kingdom and Agent Mark Seven, of the Space Security Service. 

The new post-it note reads:

Construe the Daleks’ enmity with the Doctor as a personal enmity between the Doctor and the Emperor, a la Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty. Have the Doctor triumph over the Emperor on TV in a big ‘event’ story. 

Result: the Doctor-vs-Daleks storyline is over; the Emperor is dead; I get everything I ever wanted. 

(Except maybe a pony.)

Then he phones David Whitaker, smirking all the while like an evil genie preparing to grant a badly-worded wish. 

“Good news, old chap, I’ve decided you can write a new Dalek story for the BBC, all by yourself. I promise I won’t interfere.”

*confused and delighted David Whitaker noises*

“ And you can even bring in that Dalek Emperor of yours. Yes, you heard me!”

*Whitaker enthusiasm intensifies*

“Ahhh, but there’s a catch. The Dalek Emperor must DIE.”

Of course, like all good Faustian bargains, this is irresistible even though it is ruinous and the victim knows it to be ruinous. Whitaker agrees to the scheme. He and Nation begin planning out the events of the great finale of the Dalek-Doctor confrontation, which will hit the screens in 1967 as the mildly racist, but otherwise quite well-loved, ‘The Evil of the Daleks’. 

Quickly enough, it is decided that Patrick Troughton crouching to berate the short and bubble-headed Golden Emperor would look silly. If the Emperor appears on TV, alongside human performers, then it should tower over them. Besides, this is to be the archvillainous Dalek Emperor’s last stand, and certain traditions must be followed.

Hence another task is added to the bucketlist of the Dalek Outer Space Book: tell the story of how the Emperor transformed from the globe-headed dwarf to some huge and terrible towering form under the Dalek City, for the Doctor to stumble onto later. This rebuilt Emperor may be teased, but must not be truly seen or truly defeated in the book; that would defeat the whole idea. 

Hence, The Secret of the Emperor, a story which sees the Emperor becoming self-conscious about his own efficiency and letting the Scientist Daleks rebuild his casing from scratch. The final page is a splash panel, a delightfully nonsensical diagram of the mechanical components of the new casing. 

The almost surreal array of colours and shapes is so arresting as to obscure an important detai. Many have seen this page over and over, and yet still missed it. The recent(ish) ‘Anatomy of the New Dalek Emperor’ artwork from Time Lord Victorious clearly looked at this page for reference, in spite of the fact that the TLV Emperor is much more inspired by the old Emperor than the rebuilt one.

Let me spell it out for you: look at the Scientist Daleks in the top right and centre-left. Look at them.

The new Emperor is huge.

And what else? 

That Scientist on the left is plugging huge wires snaking from the wall into the tower-casing. 

He now resides in the Great Hall of the Dalek City.

The background wall is a weird checkered pattern.

In addition, the following facts are seeded throughout the earlier pages of The Secret of the Emperor.

The point of moving to the new casing was to grant the Emperor increased brain capacity (suitable for concocting masterplans).

He acquired said increased brain capacity to help the Daleks attempt to overcome humanity once and for all. 

The Emperor has recently had a trautmatic but eye-opening experience with time travel. 

Ignore the fact that the Emperor was here depicted with what appears to be a still fairly bulbous, and golden, head, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is very, very direct setup for how the Doctor finds the Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks — tower-like, in an imperial throneroom in the Dalek City, with a checkered wall pattern, planning out a complicated scheme to harness time travel as a means of defeating humanity once and for all!

Yes, the designs don’t quite match — but how could the artist behind the visuals of Secret of the Emperor have known precisely what Shawcraft would build, a year later, based on the same basic description by Nation & Whitaker? The parallels far outweigh the minor differences in execution. (It’s worth noting that elsewhere in the Outer Space Book a different artist drew what was clearly intended to be the Golden Emperor as a large, golden, but normally-proportioned Dalek, so it’s not like the visual descriptions of these scripts were exceedingly precise…)

The rebuilt Emperor is never seen in the Outer Space Book outside of this ‘dissection’: he is heard throughout The Brain Tappers but kept carefully off-panel, and his new and dangerous new casing is pointedly not destroyed in the story’s conclusion. Well, of course not. That’s what Dr Who is for.

tl;dr: it is not a post hoc retcon, or even a secret, that the round-headed Emperor of the comics became the Dalek Emperor of Evil of the Daleks. A holistic view of the state of Dalek media in 1966-1967 shows that, in fact, it was the whole point that this be the Emperor of the comics; and that the comics had begun setting this up long before Patrick Troughton encountered Edward Waterfield on TV.

And thus, to circle back to Sandifer’s 2011 post, it is not enough to simply say that the “seemingly non-canon” comics inspired the show down the line. In fact in this instance, what appeared on Doctor Who existed for the benefit of the Daleks spin-off — not vice-versa!

[againstallelse]

The Confessionals of John H. Watson: First Draft

Hello all. Now that the month from hell is being pushed behind me (Don’t ask), I’m back to writing and I bring you The Confessionals of John H. Watson. Written by John after The Reichenbach Fall, it focuses on the question that everyone has asked in one way or another. What is John Watson’s relationship to Sherlock Holmes?

This is a first draft that I do plan on continuing. I’d love any feedback anyone has. A beta reader (or a collection of them) would be very appreciated.

Why I’ve chosen to write this now I’m not entirely sure. It feels far too little, far too late. Just like everything else seems to always be.

This will never even see the light of day. Maybe someday, long after I’m dead, someone will research into the great Sherlock Holmes’ legacy and find it. But my expectations are low. Even though it’s what everyone always wanted to read. The blog post everyone was practically begging for.

I have received one question above all others over the course of the past few years of my life. It’s one I’ve avoided addressing because in all honesty, I still do not have a simple answer.

“What is your relationship to Sherlock Holmes?”

And in a sum of words, I genuinely don’t know.

I have never had a real answer to this question. I got it from the very first day I met Sherlock, seemingly from everywhere. At that point, there was no suitable answer. A stranger? A new friend? An interest? I didn’t know. And I was too afraid to ask him what I was to him.

To me, he was like a light in the darkness. Everything had felt so dull, so painful, so dark. I was entirely alone in the world. I trudged forward every day because I wasn’t sure what else I could do. But then he came. He was enematic. Charismatic. Bright.

He lit up my entire life all at once, thrusting me into a whole new world where I finally felt like I belonged.

He was strange and finicky. A total prat. Early on, I couldn’t tell if he cared if I lived or died. I couldn’t tell if I cared if I lived or died. As long as I didn’t have to return to the darkness, I didn’t care. I felt so empty for so long. I did everything I could to keep things steady between us. Stable.

I couldn’t jeopardize losing the only good thing in my life.

I had known I had an interest in Sherlock from day one. I would have rather ended it all then admit it to a soul. But I knew it was quite obvious to anyone who bothered to throw us a second glance.

However, I didn’t realize how bad I had it for Sherlock until we had been living together for a while. I knew he was gorgeous. I knew that my heart beat faster when he was close enough to touch.

One morning I came downstairs to find him shirtless in our kitchen and found he had made tea for us both, I was overcome with something unfamiliar. I sat beside him as he read and drank his tea, ignoring me for more interesting things.

I stared at him. I studied the curves of his face. His bare chest. His lips as they curled around the edge of his mug. The most dangerous realization settled in my heart.

I wanted to be here, with him, forever. I wanted to be with Sherlock for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine spending my mornings with anyone else. I wanted to wake up beside him in the morning and have him be the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

I choked a bit and laughed it off, trying to seem casual. His eyes peered up from his book to look at me and I shook my head. He crooked his brows and before going back to his reading.

I got more serious with Sarah, my girlfriend, after that incident. I wasn’t sure what Sherlock’s sexual preference was, but I was fairly certain that it didn’t include me. Or possibly any human being. Which didn’t phase me that much.

Did I want to be sexually involved with Sherlock Holmes? Admittedly, yes. I did. He was on my mind far more often then he should have been, in scenarios he shouldn’t have been involved in. Especially when I was shagging my girlfriend.

But I didn’t mind it if Sherlock never had an interest in me. As long as I got to stay by his side for the rest of my life. That was always the priority. Anything that might scare him away had to be kept at a minimum. So I was careful about staring at him. I avoided touching him in any way at all. I knew he’d see through me and connect the dots if I indulged myself too much, so I was careful.

I still think he might have known.

Sarah figured it out. We went on a trip together, alone, since she kept asking. The whole time I was checking my phone, calling and checking in on Sherlock, talking about him nonstop. One night on our trip she found me up late, scrolling through Sherlock’s boring blog.

She asked, “Do you really love me?”

I put my computer down. She caught me off guard. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because… you don’t look at me the same way you look at Sherlock. I’m not blind John. You could be enjoying your holiday in bed with me. But you’re not. You’re thinking about him.”

Her words burned into my brain. She was right. My god, she was right. She was so kind, letting me keep my privacy. We parted amicably when the trip was over and she wished me the best of luck with Sherlock. She never told a soul, even though the papers would have paid her enough to retire a year down the line if she had.

Why couldn’t I have just loved her?

My life continued with Sherlock. Our cases were interesting, he was vibrant. He had his days, but overall we were very happy those months. That summer was likely the happiest of my life, traveling around with Sherlock, chasing after criminals in the warm summer evenings.

Sometimes I wonder if he had any concept of how romantic that summer was. Sometimes I wonder if it was the best summer of his life too.

Then she came.

The woman.

Everything changed when she came into our lives. She excited Sherlock. In ways I didn’t. Mentally. And seemingly physically, I think. It was such a shock to see Sherlock attracted to anyone in any way. Especially a woman.

It frustrated me. It hurt. After everything we went through, it seemed momentarily like she would come between us and break us apart. It was a whirlwind, one day it was he and I against the world. The next he was composing music for her.

I ran through three girlfriends in three months, trying to distract myself. Trying to distance myself from Sherlock, steal my heart so when I lost him to a dangerous dominatrix it wouldn’t hurt so badly. It didn’t work even remotely. All three of them saw right through me in record time.

When Irene pretended to die, some part of my selfish self was relieved. Maybe things could return to normal. But Sherlock’s reaction… he was totally devastated. It was heartbreaking to watch. He was quiet, reclusive even. His mourning wasn’t loud and external like most people. It probably would have been invisible to most people.

But I wasn’t most people. I was his blogger, his roommate, his best friend. His family. And I saw the way his shoulders hunched and how sad his eyes were in the reflection of the window glass.

When she returned, expecting my help, I had wanted to throw her out the window. She hurt the man who my world revolved around and wanted my help? But then she saw right through me. No matter how I denied that I wasn’t gay, she saw me.

She could see me. She could see my real feelings, probably better than anyone else ever did. I felt raw. Naked. Exposed.

Even once she was really dead, Sherlock and I never truly went back to normal. He looked at me differently. I never identified the look in his eyes our final year together. Sadness? Fear? Pity? He hid his emotions well, very well. But I could still see that hint of something there that felt cold. And it broke me.

I felt like he knew. Maybe she had told him my true feelings. Maybe he pitied me? Maybe he couldn’t see me the same, knowing I had feelings for him? Maybe he was afraid that I couldn’t truly be his friend without my feelings getting in the way?

I’ve driven myself insane with the maybes. I’ve gone over it again and again. It still keeps me up at night. What did those looks mean? I will never know, now.

When everything happened with Moriarty, it shook me to my core. Not the cases, not the insanity of the man who was chasing Sherlock, but how hard Sherlock pushed me to believe he was a liar in the end. I could not, would not ever believe that. I still do not believe that.

Sherlock was magnificent. He was brilliant. And beautiful. He came into my life and hijacked it entirely and it was the best thing to ever happen to me. None of my past experiences nor my future ones will ever compare to the part of my life I shared with him.

I could never have written this down with him still alive. If I had ever acknowledged this much, even to myself in private, he would have known and it would have broken us. But now he’s gone. And I’m left with this.

If I ever had a soulmate on this earth, it was him. I knew on some level from the night we met. More than how alluring he was both mentally and physically, something drew me to him. Something I doubt I will ever feel with another human being. With him, I felt complete in a way I never had before.

And never will again.

God, I can’t continue writing this. What’s my relationship to Sherlock Holmes? I don’t know what I was to him. But he was my soulmate. And now he’s dead.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I-J’s Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

I’M A BIT LATE WITH THIS, but I’ve been meaning to do this for awhile. I want to start reccing more fics that people haven’t asked for, and thought this was a good way to start that :P

After I made my Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019) fic list, I thought hmm, why not just make a list of my fave fics I bookmarked in 2018? Because why not? 

So here we are; it was a RIDICULOUSLY hard selection process (it was supposed to be only 10!), since everything I bookmark are amazing stories. I kept the criteria to fics I’ve only read for the very first time in 2018 and then proceeded to bookmark, so these aren’t necessarily fics that were released in 2018, just stuff I’ve read and bookmarked.

ANYWAY, without further ado, in word count order:

I-J’s TOP 20 BOOKMARKS of 2018

See also: 

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 ) 

I-J’s Last 50 Bookmarked Fics (June 2017) 

Last 17 Bookmarked Fics July 2017

Last 30 Bookmarked Fics November 2017 

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018) 

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018) 

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018) 

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Last 86 Bookmarked Fics (Jan 2019) || [MOBILE] 

Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019)

A Study in Lace by KarlyAnne (E, 2,320 w. || Est. Rel., Crafty Sherlock, Tiny Lace Panties / Lingerie, Domestics, Experiments, Oral, Masturbation) – “Why do you suppose he was doing that?” “Why do I suppose who was doing what?” “The room. The lace. The secrecy. He was playing with fire in everything he did, and didn’t care one bit. But he had a secret chamber, carefully concealed, solely for the purpose of making lace lingerie. Obviously for personal use. Why?" Part 1 of The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty's plans? John's supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

Another Auld Lang Syne by DiscordantWords (M, 30,234 w. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Introspection, Parentlock, Christmas, New Year’s, First Kiss, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Drinking, Sherlock Whump) – There had been years of missed chances.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock's failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he's not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who's been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

[johnwatsonblog-co-uk]

A Few Pictures

26th April

I was going through my phone and I found a few pictures I'd taken during some of our cases.

It might seem a bit odd but I've hardly any pictures of him. I remember him once saying how everybody was so busy photographing their lives for Facebook and Twitter that they were forgetting how to live.

'I'm far too busy to be instagramming, John!' He was annoyed at the time because Mrs Hudson was going through this phase of taking photos of her breakfast. Buying her a laptop for Christmas was probably the biggest mistake of our lives. That was the Christmas he managed to offend most of our guests, I got dumped and he met The Woman.

Best Christmas I've ever had, actually.

So, yeah, here are a few pictures.

This one is from when we were investigating a smuggling ring . It feels like so long ago.

It looks like some graffiti but it was actually a secret code. It was all secret codes back in those days. It was around then that Sherlock was getting these anonymous messages . Of course, we know now who they were from.

Not long after, Sherlock did his own bit of graffiti.

This was on the wall of our living room. Mrs Hudson was not amused. But she didn't have time to worry about it too much as a few minutes later a bomb exploded across the road.

And that was the beginning of what we ended up calling ' The Great Game '

This guy was Kenny Prince. He was the brother of Connie Prince (See Connie Prince's website for those of you who can't remember her). Sherlock took loads of pics of him while posing as my photographer. He had the ugliest cat I've ever seen.

And from cats to dogs... Do you see what I did there?

This was Henry Knight's house. He'd come to see us because his Dad had been killed by a giant devil dog. Which sounds mad but the truth was even madder. That was in Hounds of Baskerville . Nice house though!

The following pictures are from our last case. Which I never typed up. I don't want to type it up. I probably never will. Because that's too final.

But you know what happened? Sherlock saved the lives of two kids. Regardless of anything else, he did that. And they didn't even like him very much. If you really think that he was guilty or that Moriarty wasn't real then feel free to explain this .

But this is meant to be a positive thing. I'm not dwelling on the bad stuff. I'm remembering the good times.

Such as how much he loved this hat...

He adored that hat so much.

And, of course, Cluedo.

He liked playing Cluedo. So did I. Before I played it with him. He actually deduced that the victim had done it.

He deduced that the victim had faked his own death.

I said at the time that it wasn't very likely. In fact, I think I said it was impossible. And he told me that it might be improbable but nothing's impossible.

I wish I still believed that.

11 comments

Oh he did look handsome in that hat.

Mrs Hudson 26 April

I still do an amazing fry-up. You should come around.

Mrs Hudson 26 April

Except for the bacon.

Marie Turner 26 April

My bacon is perfect thank you!

Mrs Hudson 26 April

A gentleman

Marie Turner 26 April

Hardly. You ok John?

Mrs Hudson 26 April

You two were brilliant. I'll never believe what they said on the news. You saved my life and if there's anything I can do then let me know.

Henry Knight 27 April

i still dont know what to believe :(

theimprobableone 27 April

The man was a lying scumbag and he deserved to die for all his lies!!!

Anonymous 27 April

Believe what you like.

John Watson 27 April

I HOPE HE ROTS IN HELL!!!!

Sauron1976 27 April

[twomenofnote]

An Accidental Love Story Part 11

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Trigger warning: This installment contains depiction of suicide

“How’s your dog, Molly?” John asks over the static. He was hunched inside a phone booth just a few yards away from his jail cell.

Molly Hooper has, in fact, never owned a pet dog. John Watson was fully aware of this.

On the other end of the line, Molly freezes, hoping against hope that she had heard John wrong. It was the question she wished she would never hear from John. A question which, to other people listening in, seemed perfectly innocuous––but to the scientists of Project Iditarod, that question was a secret code––a code that only meant one thing: We’re fucked. Our data is compromised. Delete everything.

Molly shuts her eyes, opens them again, and looks at her phone––as if to make sure it wasn’t broken.

“M-Molly?” John tries again. “Sorry––these prison phones can be rubbish. Did you hear me?”

“Yup, heard you the first time!” Molly replies, blinking back tears and trying to sound peppy. “I’m taking him to the groomers this morning––he needs a very thorough cleaning,” she laughs. 

“Good, good,” John smiles. “Listen, its been a great 15 minutes, Mols––but a bunch of other inmates are waiting to use the phone. I’ve got to go.”

“Sure, no problem––but one more thing, John––I’m actually planning on knitting you a sweater. You’re favorite color is green, right? Or was it red?”

It was another one of their unassuming, little, secret codes. Green would mean John was not in any danger. Red would mean his life was on the line.

Please say green, please say green, please say green, Molly begs silently.

“That’s sweet of you––it’s, uh, green, actually,” John lies. There was no need to worry the poor girl. 

“Goodbye, Molly.”

John hangs up, walks back to his cell, sits stiffly on his bed, and unrolls the newspaper he’s been clutching all morning. At the bottom of the front page was a grainy picture of Sherlock Holmes‘ beautiful, scowling face. His lifeless body was found floating on the Thames, tortured beyond recognition. John wasn’t certain if Sherlock’s death was Moriarty’s doing but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

I’m sorry, Sherlock, John thinks, his body trembling with pent-up emotion. I’m so sorry.

John wants to scream, wants to run, wants to break something and hear it snap beneath his bare hands. Instead, he looks out into the hallway and checks the clock on the wall. 

He had less than 30 hours before Moriarty came to collect what he wanted.

Well, tough, John thinks. 

By now, Molly had hopefully already run the code, eliminating every piece of information on Iditarod. 

Before John‘s arrest, the serum had been in its final testing phase. They were close. So close––and there was no way John would let Moriarty threaten him into giving away all of the rights to Iditarod. John knew the rumors about Jim––and by now, he was one hundred percent certain that they were all true. 

John looks down at his left hand. Molly already knows what to do if anything should happen to him. She would extract the chip from his body and wait three years to resurrect the project.

John didn’t think it would all come to this. He didn’t like what he was about to do. Not one bit. But Moriarty was a brilliant man. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out John’s secret––that John himself was the final key. 

He would still kill me, anyway, John muses. 

There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there? He thinks, remembering his days as a soldier. And one should embrace it when it comes.

Later that night, when the halls are quiet and empty, he lies in bed and takes out the makeshift blade he had hidden underneath his mattress. 

He raises his hand and takes a good look at his wrist, recalling his medical training. He sees in his mind how he would slit his radial artery with perfect precision. 

Jim Moriarty will not be getting what he wants, John decides.

Surprise, motherfucker, he thinks with a smile. 

Across London, Sherlock Holmes was busy putting the final touches on his plan.

“Could we do this much faster, please?” He asks, nervously pacing in front of large shelves containing folders upon folders of files. 

“Hang on,” Molly Hooper grunts through gritted teeth, frantically putting on gloves. “Ten minutes ago, I didn’t even know who you were and now I’m giving you the biggest secret of my life––give me a moment, will you?”

“You know everything about Project Iditarod, alright,” she continues, filling a small vial with the secret serum. “But how do I even know if I can trust you?”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice, Ms. Hooper,” Sherlock replies. 

“We need to trust each other––or John Watson dies.”

Part 12

_______________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

**Author’s note: Credit goes to @barlowmiranda (formerly @misshooper) and to @whoeveryoulovethemost for the second and third GIFS of Molly on the phone, respectively.

Dear readers, I’m trying to be careful as much as I can but if you find I’ve used some of your GIFs without giving credit, please let me know! Thank you.**

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[imagines-so-what-if]

B is for Breaking and Entering

Headcanons and scenarios for Sherlock, Mycroft and Moriarty. 

The prompt: In which you decide to break into your boyfriend’s home. Why? Well, why ever not?

Genre: Fluff and humor

Rating: T for illegal activities

Reader type in the scenarios: Adventurous, confident, eccentric (especially true for Jim’s scenario, haha) 

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST   

gifs and characters do not belong to me

Headcanons for S/O breaking into Sherlock’s apartment

Sherlock is equally confused and amused on why.

It’s cute to see you worry about him.

But please don’t bring that annoying stranger who happens to be related to him by blood into this.

That irritates him.

He’s fine.

He’s really fine.

He’s fine.

Stop worrying, please.

He wants to know how you did it. He wants you to walk him through the process and see if you spot all the security errors he already has.

He’ll set up his own security measures and challenge you to try again.

Succeed and he’ll make it harder. It’ll turn into a game. Fail and he’ll firmly believe he’s proven his point that he’s fine.

(But thank you for worrying not that he would ever say it out loud)

Sherlock Scenario

One day you decided to break into Sherlock's home.

Because why not?

You waited until late at night on a night that Sherlock and John were currently out and about on some fantastic case. You carefully bided your time until you were certain Mrs Hudson was sound asleep and no one would be up and about to see your nightly antics.

You first tried picking the lock because Youtube made it look easy.

It was not easy.

You gave up on that about ten minutes in and then headed towards the front window.

It was alarmingly easy to wiggle an old coat hanger wire through the tiniest little hole and unlatch the window. You opened it and climbed inside the first floor.

‘That was too easy. That was seriously way too easy.’

You were understandably unsettled by how easy it was to break into your boyfriend's apartment.

‘Maybe it'll be harder actually trying to get into Sherlock's room?’

You really hoped so. Otherwise you were going to have to dedicate a weekend to revamping the security on this place (although already you were planning on getting that window fixed).

You headed up the stairs, simultaneously pleased and annoyed at how the stairs creaked loudly. On one hand you were trying to break in without getting caught, but the potential noise it made offered a bit of security so at least there was that.

Mrs Hudson did not seem to hear the noise, though.

You made it up to Sherlock's flat and you tried to pick the lock. Unsurprisingly you were not successful. You then remembered that Mrs Hudson kept spare keys around on the alarmingly frequent occasion Sherlock “lost” his, or locked John out.

‘But surely she wouldn't leave it lying around for a burglar to have easy access…’

The key was hanging on a hook back down stairs by the front door.

‘Oh, dear…’ You shook your head at such. ‘Maybe it's a fake?’

You tried the key out.

It was real.

Sherlock's flat was completely vulnerable to you.

That did not settle well with you. Nope. Not at all.

So you immediately called up Mycroft.

He picked up on the third ring. "Hello, Kitten."

You didn't bat your eye at your assigned nickname. You didn't like people using your actual name, so you insisted everyone calling you by some kind of nickname. The most common one was Kitten, but you occasionally got Robin, Pet, and Dearie. Even Puppy once from Sherlock when he made a scathing remark at your ability to always come back to him no matter how insulting he could be.

"Hello, future in law," you greeted in return. Marriage was a long ways off for Sherlock, but given that you had been together for as long as you could remember you had earned the right to call Mycroft such. You even called him big brother on occasions you really wanted to get under his skin.

Mycroft wasn't phased, though. "What is it?"

"Sherlock's apartment has alarmingly poor security," you explained. "I literally just broke in it without any fuss ten minutes ago."

"Yes, I've noticed. And?"

"And you and I need to change that. Immediately."

"Starting to feel unsafe?"

"Starting to think Sherlock's catching a lot more attention from not nice people these days," you retorted.

Mycroft made an agreeing noise. "Then what do you propose? He won't let me assist him."

"No. But he'll let you assist me."

"Mm-hmm. Well, if you can deal with his tempertantrum I can have the place properly fitted with a good security system within twenty four hours."

"And replace the windows."

"Of course."

"And the doors and locks."

"That goes without saying."

"Good. We have ourselves a deal."

Thankfully Sherlock's case took him out of town for the next couple of days so the security changes were able to implemented without a fuss. Oh you knew he was going to throw a fit when he got back, but you only had his safety in mind. He'd forgive you because he would understand the logic, even if you ended up getting help from his brother.

He'd forgive you.

Eventually.

Probably.

Hopefully.

When he did return he demanded what happened to his apartment. The new features weren’t obvious, but nothing was hidden from Sherlock’s gaze. Abashed you quietly muttered, “I broke into your apartment a couple days ago when you’n’John left.”

“You what?” John asked in surprise.

“I was bored,” you confessed. “Anyway, it was ridiculously easy. So I—I asked Mycroft to help upgrade it.”

Sherlock stared at you for a solid minute, cold blue eyes narrowed in obvious distaste. Without a word he turned around and left. He went into his bedroom and shut the door. John awkwardly shifted his weight before mumbling an apology on Sherlock’s behalf and asking if you’d like some tea.

You politely declined and moved to sit down in front of Sherlock’s door.

He didn’t come out for the rest of the night, unsurprisingly. You anticipated such, though, and with determination that came with being his girlfriend you stubbornly waited. When you inevitably dozed off sometime around 2 in the morning you were abruptly awoken by the door swinging in.

You tumbled backwards into the room and looked up at Sherlock’s dour expression. You tried for a nervous smile. “I’m sorry I upset you, but I really was only thinking about your safety. You know I—I mean you know I care about you an awful lot. You’re getting into dangerous situations and I only want you to be safe.”

He gave a short sigh. “I already know your reasons. Go to bed, you’re going to throw your back at sleeping like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to be okay with it?”

His face twitched. He was silent for a long time and you wondered if perhaps he was going to turn back around and sulk, but then he lets out a short sigh. “Something tells me you’ll only put it right back up if I take it down and my time could be better spent doing something else.”

You smiled at that.

“Don’t involve that man again, though.”

“Okay,” you agreed then yawned.

Sherlock bent down and gave you that awkward little smile he reserved for you. “Now tell me how exactly you broke in. I’ve done it a few times myself so I’m curious which path you took…”

Headcanons for S/O breaking into Mycroft’s home

If you were doing it with his blessing (for one reason or another), he’ll want to watch.

Succeed and he’ll immediately fix the security errors. He’ll thank you for pointing out the flaws.

Mycroft is not one to shirk on home security.

Especially if you’re living with him.

If you fail, he’ll still find your attempt amusing, but he’ll be pleased with his security.

Regardless he wants to see how you go about doing it so he’ll watch everything unfold on his security cameras. He may even add commentary depending on his mood and if you’re doing it with his blessing or not.

Doing it without telling him will cause some irritation. He’ll be unhappy you didn’t talk to him about it first, but as long as you and his home weren’t damaged during the endeavor he won’t dwell on it.

Be prepared for snarky comments about it though.

Mycroft Scenario

Mycroft’s home was more akin to a mansion than a house. It had a meticulously maintained yard, luxurious cars parked around the corner, and an aura of majestic elegance. Everything about it screamed blue blood, and anyone who met Mycroft wouldn’t be surprised to see what his home looked like.

When you first started staying over you had to admit to yourself it was a little intimidating. You had never been in such a tidy, well-taken care of, old, and gorgeous home.

(Then you saw his libraries and all that intimidation and worry was swept away into awe and envy.)

After so many nights sleeping over you really started to feel comfortable there. Mycroft and his servants were very accommodating to you and it wasn’t long before you started to call the place your home as well.

You had unofficially moved in there (as you still technically owned your own place in the city, but you only visited there maybe once a month) and you adored it. You loved being able to wake up with the love of your life, and occasionally even get to go to bed with him at the same time (he always made an effort to try and go to bed at the same time as you but his work made that difficult; still you appreciated the effort.) You got to eat breakfast and dinner together nearly every day; you got to randomly join him in showers and see his always surprised expression at that; you even got to pick out his ties.

Life there was grand.

Except for one teeny-tiny little issue.

Mycroft’s little brother and your good friend, Sherlock, had this inexplicable desire to break into Mycroft’s home instead of going through the front door. He also tended to do this very late at night / very early in the morning, and every time without fail you would wake up half-asleep and in full panic mode thinking a bunch of evil doers had broken into your home.

It made for amusing stories at first, but after the eleventh time it started to get a little annoying.

Enough so that you decided to actively try to make it near impossible for Sherlock to break in so he would have to go in through the front door, or call, or do anything besides give you a heart attack.

You started by adding extra locks on the doors.

Sherlock didn’t even bat an eye at them.

So you added locks to the windows.

Barely phased.

‘Is breaking into a home really that easy?’ You couldn’t imagine it would be. Mycroft’s home seemed so secure. ‘How is he doing it? Is there some sort of secret passage into this place I don’t know about?’

How did one go about breaking into a home anyway?

All you had seen in the movies were things either way too elaborate to ever happen in real life, or lock-picking. You went ahead and kindly asked Mycroft to change the locks again (and he decided to add a combination of technical locks as well as the standard key ones. He joked it might actually slow Sherlock down enough for him to get frustrated and try a different route.)

But surely there were other ways? After all Sherlock was able to do it within fifteen minutes every time.

Youtube and movies could only show you so much.

So you decided to try it for yourself. Maybe you would see something you initially didn’t think about.

Maybe there was a secret passage.

All of that had lead you to where you were tonight: trying to break into your own home with Mycroft bemusedly watching you on the security cameras.

“What’s your first move, my dear?” Mycroft asked you. You reflexively reached up to your ear piece.

You shifted your posture, thinking carefully. You had decided to do the “heist” at night, so it was a little hard to see. You had a flashlight, of course, because you weren’t trying to be sneaky about it. Right now you were trying to find the apparent holes in your security.

“Gonna circle it and see if I can find anything. Let me know if I disappear from the cameras. Maybe there’s a blind spot.”

“Of course,” Mycroft demurred.

You headed off, moving slowly and trying to see if you could find anything. You didn’t have Sherlock’s genius level of perception but you were observant. It wasn’t uncommon for you to see things others missed.

You poked the hedges, peering through them to see if you could find any magic holes into your home. There wasn’t anything terribly easy to notice as you moved around until—

“I’ve lost vision.”

You paused upon hearing Mycroft’s words and you glanced around. You were at the side of the home, opposite of the garage. You took a couple steps backwards, retracing your steps, until Mycroft’s pleasant voice filled your ears, “I see you again.”

“So there is a blind spot,” you murmured to yourself. “He must be coming in through here, somehow.”

“Very likely,” Mycroft agreed.

You experimented with the view, finding that the blind spot was about two meters wide, gaining in width the closer you drew to your home. It wouldn’t be hard for someone like Sherlock to slip into the spot and then—

And then what?

The nearest window was five meters off the ground. It would be difficult for someone like Sherlock to simultaneously hold onto that alarmingly tiny ledge while picking a lock, especially the expensive locks Mycroft invested in.

You poked at the hedges pressed to the bottom of the mansion. They were all neatly trimmed and healthy. None of them looked like they had been climbed on; there were no broken branches or an abundance of smashed leaves.

At least not until you reached the bottom of the hedges.

“Huh.” You knelt down and brushed back the bent branches. “Oh my God. I knew it!”

“Did you find something interesting?” Mycroft inquired.

You nodded before you remembered he couldn’t see you. “Yep. Hello secret passage.”

There was a pause. “You’re joking.”

You snapped off the branches and pushed back the leaves. Barely visible underneath the hedges was a tiny little wooden hatch. You weren’t surprised the gardener didn’t notice it, given how heavily concealed it was by the bottom part of the hedges. You had to use both your hands to lift up the hatch, though, and then using your flashlight you peered into the darkness below.

“It’s got a ladder. Pretty new. Sherlock probably put it in,” you observed.

“How lovely.”

“Welp. Here I go.”

You stuck the flashlight in your mouth and shimmied down into the hole. It was a tight fit going down—about eleven meters deep—but you managed. Your feet hit cobblestone and you found yourself looking into a dank, dark tunnel. There were lanterns hanging on the ceiling, but none of them were lit.

“This is the stuff of stories,” you commented, looking around. “I feel like a treasure hunter or something.”

“Where does it lead to, though?”

“Probably someplace in the cellar, given how deep we are.”

“Ah. I never installed security down there given what it was. An error of judgement on my part it would seem.”

“To be fair,” you said, “having a secret passage into your home is extremely unlikely.”

It didn’t take you long to reach the end of the tunnel where a tiny little door lead you to the cellar. It was high up on the wall of the cellar and concealed by an old tapestry. You climbed out of it and hopped down to the wooden floor, satisfied with what you had discovered. “Well, how do you want to proceed?”

“It makes for a good emergency escape route, I supposed,” Mycroft said. “Give it an upgrade and substitute the hatch for something sturdier… and fix that blind spot, of course.”

You found yourself nodding in agreement with your boyfriend. “Yeah. Heh. Let’s see if Shirley can break in now!”

“I’m sure he’ll try,” Mycroft said.

And he did.

But he didn’t succeed.

Headcanons for S/O breaking into Jim Moriarty’s penthouse

No matter how you spin it that’s impressive.

Like, wow. What a good little pet you are.

He’s genuinely impressed and bemused by you.

If you got hurt during it though he’ll be considerate enough to assist you in treating your injuries. If you got too hurt then he won’t be amused at all by your “adventure.”

Pets are meant to entertain, not kill themselves.

He wants you to walk him through your process. He wants you tell him what you think are the security errors.

He is a perfectionist; he does not want to have any errors.

He will be vexed with his head of security no matter what you say or do. His penthouse was meant to be impenetrable and the fact that you proved him wrong will simply not do, loved one or not.

This was meant to be a safe place for you. If it’s not safe then that is absolutely unacceptable. His displeasure will be known.

But good on you. Keep it up.

Moriarty Scenario

Moriarty was not a man who wasted time batting around the bush. When he wanted something, he moved to take it. Now certainly there were times where he would patiently construct convoluted and entertaining plans in order to obtain his desire; but there were an equal amount of times where he would brute force his way into taking it (not directly of course because Moriarty did not do dirty work).

When the your relationship with the criminal mastermind had reached a certain point he wanted you to move in with him. Now you had already been practically living in his penthouse with only the occasional visit to your lonely apartment, so you weren’t surprised or bothered by the idea of moving in with him. In fact, it was something you were hoping would happen soon.

He didn’t ask you, though, which wasn’t out of character.

Rather he told you casually during dinner one evening that you would be remaining in the penthouse for the foreseeable future.

His wording was ominous so you asked him to clarify.

“You will be living here from henceforth,” Moriarty explained clearly in that smooth voice of his. “No need to leave here again.”

You swallowed your food as you considered your response. “I have work.”

“You don’t need to work anymore.”

“I like my job.”

He smiled at you in a manner that reminded you of how a master might look at a pet doing an interesting trick. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

You shifted in your seat. You really didn’t not want to move in with him, but you worked hard to get where you were at now with your job. It felt like a waste to throw it all away. Additionally you knew what it was like being unemployed: boring. You learned the hard way early on in life that life without purpose was… uncomfortable. Working helped you stay proactive and if you no longer worked, what were you supposed to do with all that free time?

There were only so many shows one could binge watch, and so many things one could do confined to a single building.

“I’d like to move in with you,” you admitted to him, “but I’d like to keep my job. I’m willing to go down to part time, though.”

“What a nice compromise,” Moriarty commented as he took a sip of his wine. “How about no?”

“Why do you want me to stay in here indefinitely? Aside from the obvious answer that you want to spend time with me.”

Moriarty smiled charmingly. “Simple: it’s safest here. This penthouse is under my protection and no one could ever hurt you here. No one will ever touch you without my blessing. You have captured my attention well enough to warrant my protection, something I do not take lightly.”

Okay. That made sense. You understood perfectly well that Moriarty had made some extremely dangerous enemies It wasn’t a stretch to think they would use you to get to him. Following that logic it was a no brainer he would want you to stay inside his little fortress.

But something he said wiggled at the back of your mind.

“No one?” You repeated his words with a smile. “So what you’re saying is it’s impossible for anyone to break into here?”

“That should go without saying, pet.”

Your smile widened.

‘Oh this could get interesting,’ you thought to yourself.

“Okay,” you purred. “I’ll move in with you, but I’d like it to be this coming weekend instead of tonight. There are arrangements I’d really like to make in person. Surely you can give me a few days? Please?”

Moriarty tilted his head, his dark eyes looking you over as he considered your request.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” you added, your smile stretching over your face as you thought of your brilliant plan. “I bet I can make you laugh this week.”

That manic grin stretched over his face. “Mm. Okay. After Saturday you’ll remain here.”

“Deal!” You couldn’t resist chirping out that response.

So of course you decided to break into the penthouse after that, because why wouldn’t you?

(No one sane dated Moriarty and kept his attention for so long, but that’s okay no one here is judging you.)

The penthouse was definitely difficult to break into. It was stacked with guards, high-level security tech, surveillance everywhere, and lots and lots of weapons.  Everyone who worked there was thoroughly vetted and 100% loyal to Moriarty (or at least to the point where they understood taking their own life rather than helping the enemy was the kinder alternative to betraying him.) There was no way to infiltrate it through them.

If you were going to break into Moriarty’s penthouse there were only two ways:

Option one: Cybertech genius.  If you were one helluva hacker you could probably pass yourself off as a potential client. You could set up an online reputation, build yourself, make official looking documents, and go in through the front door. You would only have access to the mid-levels before you would have to disable security and sneak past the human guards up to the penthouse. That’d still be ridiculously tricky, though.

Which left option two, and arguably the more fun option: base-jumping. Crazy illegal, borderline insane, and absolutely no way to be predicted.

What a perfect plan.

On the day before you had to move in with Moriarty you decided to invite your bodyguards for some lunch. It was easy to slip them some sedatives and using the cash Moriarty gave you as an allowance you rented a personal plane to fly over the penthouse. When the plane was over the penthouse you would jump out in your air gliding suit and hopefully land on the penthouse.

One did not date Moriarty without being a risk taker.

What really made this extra funny was that you knew he would be looking for you about now.

The guards should have been awake for a few hours by that point. They would have told him you were missing. He would have checked all his GPS tracking bugs he planted on you (which you left behind).

He would likely be under the impression that you were kidnapped / in danger and would be slowly losing his mind looking for you.

And instead you would be breaking into his penthouse, waiting patiently in your room for him to notice you were there whole time.

His face… would be… priceless.

You really couldn’t resist cackling out loud.

He really brought out the mischievous side in you. Truly he had only himself to blame for enabling your pranks early on in your friendship.

You had also already left the penthouse patio door unlocked and open for you so you wouldn’t have to worry about tripping the security system when you went in.

Jumping out of the plane was thrilling, undoubtedly. With a thank you and a bow towards your generous pilot you leapt out of plane and soared through the air. You had only gone skydiving and base jumping a few times (all without your consent during one of Moriarty’s schemes, but you got over it… mostly).

With no amount of incredible luck you managed to land on the roof of the penthouse.

Of course you did not land with perfect grace. You tumbled and rolled, somersaulting several times over until you hit the roof wall. Your suit was scrapped up and you were thoroughly bruised and scratched, but the sheer satisfaction of executing a plan well kept the pain at bay and a smile on your face. You rolled back up, wincing when you realized you twisted your ankles when you landed.

You would definitely be feeling it in the morning, but that would all be entirely worth it upon seeing Moriarty’s face at the fact that you broke into his precious penthouse.

With glee you dropped down from the roof and onto the patio. Unsurprisingly the back door was opened—how you left it that morning—and you hurried inside. You practically ran into your room (okay, wobbled because ow ow ow) and started to make yourself comfortable as you waited for Jim to return.

You didn’t have to wait too long.

About an hour and a half later you heard the doors slam open from the front of the level. You could feel the barely restrained murderous air around your boyfriend as he gracefully (because Moriarty did not stomp) entered his penthouse suit. You could vaguely hear hissed words of anger as he neared the bedroom.

‘Probably on the phone.’

Then the double doors to your shared bedroom swung open and Moriarty immediately noticed you laying on your bed in an air gliding suit with a silly grin on your face.

The unchecked emotions flickering across his face were as priceless as you anticipated: First outrage, followed by confusion and bewilderment, then realization, then irritation, then bafflement, and finally exasperation. He stared at you, eyebrows raised and momentarily speechless.

Moriarty tossed his phone aside and strolled into the room with narrowed eyes. “You… ran away from my guards only to then break into my penthouse, which you can easily enter whenever you want?”

“Yeah,” you answered with a giggle. “I broke into your impenetrable fortress!”

“You injured yourself to… prove a point?”

“Mostly to see your face. It was 100% worth it.”

Then a uncharacteristic snort escaped the handsome man and he shook his head, chuckling. He was smiling, clearly amused by your antics. That familiar mad gleam entered his eyes and you knew you would likely be in for a punishment later tonight by causing him worry; but you had a feeling the punishment would be equally rewarding given that you were able to make him genuinely laugh. “Well done, pet. I honestly wasn’t expecting this. You have thoroughly caught me off guard.”

You beamed at his praise—because truly it was—and said, “Yay! I’m ready to move in with you now.”

“Of course you are.”

[showsandbandsimagines]

Enigma-Chapter one

A Sherlock Holmes Fanfiction 

I stared blankly at the men in front of me. I clutched my arm to my chest, wincing in pain, but forced myself not to say anything. “How is this even possible?” the shortest one said. I sighed, and looked around the flat. The place was dust filled and messy, looking like a neurotic lived here. Which is most likely the case.

               “Well it is.” I said dumbly.

               “No. You’re supposed to be dead!” John shouted.

               “Well, technically, well, legally, I was.” I said, straightening my posture.

               “You’re supposed to be dead!” John shouted, coming closer to me. I flinched at his tone, not liking it, causing him to back up.

               “John do remember that ages ago I was dead.” The other man said. My eyes snapped up at him, and I glanced him over. Right. This must be Sherlock. My brother’s best friend, and everyone’s favorite sociopathic resident.

               “She overdosed!” John refused.

               “And I jumped off a building.”  Sherlock said, throwing his hands up, his robe flapping at his movements.

               “And I’m right here! John! I’m standing right in front of you! And I am very much alive!” I shouted, feeling annoyed. Nothing made sense. Nothing was clear. I don’t understand emotions. I never had, yet I often find myself fueled by anger and pain. “I also have a bullet in my arm, so that would be great if you’d be able to help.” I said.

               John froze and I rolled my eyes. I brushed past him, and into the kitchen, and I shuffled through drawers. I finally found what I was searching for. I pulled out a first aid kit. I tore off my jacket, and I braced my arm on the table. I heard footsteps behind, but I refused to look behind me.

               “Oh jesus!” John said, sounding appalled.

               “John, I’m the one with a god damned bullet in my arm!” I ground out through clenched teeth. I pulled out the knife from my pocket, and I hesitated before I drew the blade to my arm.

               “Wait! You should go to the hospital!” John said.

               I glared at him harshly. “No, no hospital. Far as I am concerned Amara Watson is dead.” I said. Suddenly, a lighter was placed in front of me, and I looked at it. I followed the hand, and I saw it was Sherlock. I grabbed the lighter from him, which I used to sterilize the blade. I hesitated slightly, before slicing into my arm. “Fuck!” I shouted, as I opened the wound up, so I could go in with a pair of tweezers, which I used to extract the bullet.

               I dropped the bullet onto the table, and by this time I was dizzy. “Amara, you don’t look well.” John said, coming closer to me. I rolled my eyes, and took the knife, using the lighter to heat up the blade.  “What are you- oh god!” John said, sounding like he was going to be sick as I used the hot blade, pressing it to my wound, letting the hot metal cauterize the wound. I let out a short scream.

               Finally, I dropped the bloody knife to the table, and I stood up straight, nearly falling over. “John, this is why you’re the doctor.” I gasped out, and stumbled back into the other room, where I reached my bag, pulling out a bottle of alcohol, which I dumped onto my arm, cleansing the now burnt flesh. I applied ointment, then wrapped my arm in a bandage. I rummaged through my bag, then found my pain medicine, which I took quickly, swallowing it dry.

               I collapsed onto the floor, and panted, feeling the adrenaline fade, which now left me shaky and dizzy. I pushed myself up, getting to my feet, as I walked back into the kitchen, picking up my jacket from the floor, walking back to the living room where my brother stood with Sherlock. “Will you please tell me what happened?” John begged.

               “Oh dearie, don’t beg, it doesn’t suit you well at all.” I said, rolling my eyes.

               “You’re a paranoid recluse on the run from someone, but it must have been taken care of recently for you to show up here. You have a talent of finding people, since you easily found us. You evade our questions, yet you came here for a reason. Is the reason that you’re finally free from the man you once loved? No, you’re not a torn up wreak. You didn’t love him, he loved you, obsessed with you.” Sherlock deduced.

               “My my, your brother was right about you.” I teased, causing them both to freeze.

               “You know Mycroft?” he asked.

               “Of course. Who else do you think helped me disappear. Of course I owed him a few favors for his troubles, but I am now out of his debt.” I said, shrugging my shoulders, not at all phased by Sherlock’s deductions.

               “An overdose?” John asked, hurt in his voice. I sighed but turned around.

               “I actually did overdose. On accident. Not intentional. My heart did stop, but that’s where Mycroft’s men came in. In a matter of seconds, my death certificate was signed, and his men had my heart restarted. When I came to, Mycroft informed me that Jason, the man who I had been seeing, was a dangerous man. Of course I knew that. I agreed to disappear, knowing that it would rattle him. People would start asking questions, force him to become hasty, make a mistake.” I informed.

               “I thought you were dead! For eleven years I thought you were dead!” John shouted. I flinched at his raised voice. Recoiling back in fright.

               “Please, brother, try to see my perspective.” I said, out of breath, afraid.

               “Your perspective? You come here, thinking that I would what? Welcome you back with open arms? After all this time? Your death drew Harry to drink. I went to war. Do you see my perspective?” he shouted.

               “John, I think you should go.” Sherlock said, breaking up our little domestic.

               “I should go? You don’t even know this girl who comes here with a bullet in her arm? She’s a liar who feels nothing!” John shouted, before storming out of the flat. I looked towards the entry way, flinching when I heard the door slam shut downstairs.

               “Why?” I asked, not looking at the man.

               “Why what?” he asked, sounding distracted. I looked toward him, seeing he was flipping through a book without a care in the world.

               “Why’d you do that? You should be kicking me out, not him.” I said, shaking my head.

               “He has some place to go. You? Do not.” He said.

               I nodded my head, and glanced down at my arm once more. I sighed, and pulled my hair up into a bun. “You don’t seem surprised that I was alive, you don’t even seem phased that a supposed dead girl shows up on your doorstep claiming to be John’s sister.” I said.

               “That’s because my brother told me about you when I met John. That he comes with baggage. Your death gave my brother’s idea for me to die and go into hiding when Moriarty was around. He knew it would work.” Sherlock said.

               “Because it worked with me.” I said.

               “Obviously.” He said. I rolled my eyes, and looked around once more.

               “My room is down the hall, feel free to use it. I tend to sleep in here, if I do sleep.” Sherlock said. I looked at him shocked.

               “So you’re just letting me stay here? No questions asked?” I verified.

               “My brother is not a stupid man. He wouldn’t go through that much trouble to help a girl who isn’t clever. You are useful. Your talents and skill.” He said.

               “So I’m just a tool?” I asked.

               “Is that a problem?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. I scoffed.

               “Of course not.” I said before gathering my belongings then went down the hall, finding the room I was directed to.

[janeofcakes]

Chapter 51

(John Watson has been missing for four days. Completely exhausted the night before, Sherlock fell asleep at his desk with his head cushioned by countless papers and printouts of areas in London that he has found to be places Moriarty has hidden himself in the past.

It is the morning of the fifth day and Sherlock is awakened by the sound of his front door opening. He lifts his head and sits up blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Greg walks into the room seconds later with two cups of coffee. The detective notes that he looks as bad as Sherlock feels as he takes one cup from the DI.)

G: We raided five of the locations you gave me last night. Found a couple of blokes at two of them. Donovan’s questioning them now, but I don’t expect to get much. The other locations were empty.

S: Go over any documents with a fine-toothed comb. Bring any laptops to me. Better yet, bring it all to me. There must be some clue as to where John is. (to himself) Moriarty wouldn’t take him anywhere he’s been before. It has to be some place new.

G: (grimly) We did find something at the last one.

(Sherlock meets his eyes intensely, expectantly.)

G: John’s jumper and shoes. They’re in the lab for analysis.

S:I’ll do it.

(Sherlock puts down the coffee and brushes by Greg for the door.)

G: You can’t do everything, Sherlock. When did you last sleep?

S: Irrelevant. (Greg crosses his arms.) When did you?

G: (sighing) You can go if you like, but Molly is testing them.

(Sherlock stops in the doorway and turns to face Greg. His face flushed with anger. His mobile begins to sound.)

S: I told you to keep her off the case.

G: Fuck what you told me. She’s the best. If anyone in the lab helps us find John it’s her.

S: (shouting) She is the reason John was kidnapped!

G: She was manipulated!

S: She was stupid!

G: She’s as much a victim as anyone else! 

(Sherlock laughs cruelly and looks away from Greg, who throws up the hand not still holding a coffee cup.)

G: Answer your god damn phone.

(Sherlock shakes his head and exhales a disgusted sigh as he produces his mobile and looks at it. The number is blocked, which can only be one person. Sherlock’s brow arches as he takes the call.)

S: Where is he?

(Greg nearly chokes on his coffee and pulls his own mobile. Sherlock mouths ‘trace it’ and Greg whispers.)

G: We don’t have a trace on you.

S: (almost silently) What?!

G: Didn’t expect him to just phone you.

JM: Hello, Sherrrrlock. How are you? Getting along without your man Friday?

(The voice is his typical sing-song, but Sherlock can hear a well-disguised tone of irritation in it. Sherlock feels an odd amount of satisfaction at that knowledge. John is pissing him off and now Moriarty is calling him, but why?)

S: (smugly) I could have told you John would never cooperate, if you had only asked.

JM: He is spirited. I can see why you keep him around. I like a man with spirit too. We’re getting along swimmingly. (licking his lips, knowing that will get a rise from the detective)  You didn’t answer me, Sherlock. How are you getting along?

S: (biting out the words) I will find you. Make no mistake.

JM: You know, I think you miss him. Having a heart is verrrrry inconvenient, isn’t it?

S: (through clenched teeth) What do you want?

JM: What do I want? I hate to admit it, but I need your help. You see, our lover hasn’t been eating. I thought you might convince him to start.

(Sherlock’s trained ears can hear the veiled fury in Moriarty’s words. He smirks and looks toward Greg, who pays him no mind.)

G: No. Just do it now! We need this call!

(Sherlock nearly rolls his eyes, but the background noise on his mobile quickly gains his singular focus. Shuffling, Moriarty, a muffled voice that sounds like John’s saying ‘I won’t.’ Sherlock presses the mobile closer to his own ear.) 

S: John? (Muffled noises follow, so he tries the name louder.) John? Are you there?

(The noises on the other end cease and then he hears a shuddering breath. The voice is a hesitant whisper.)

J: Sherlock?

S: John, where are you?

J: I don’t know.

JM: No, no, Sherlock. Very naughty of you. Didn’t your mother teach you to follow the rules? (with a smile in his voice) Stick to the subject at hand or this ends now and he’s dead.

(Sherlock bites his lip in fury and barely contains a verbal onslaught. He doesn’t believe for a moment that Moriarty will kill John, but is certain that John will pay dearly if Sherlock does not cooperate.)

S: How are you?

J: I’m fine. It’s all fine.

(John’s voice is all military precision and professionalism. But Sherlock, who knows him so well, can hear the words unspoken. Help me, please.)

S: John...

J: No.

S: You need to eat. (Greg looks at Sherlock with alarm.)

J: No.

S: You’ll only get weaker.

J: That’s the point. I won’t do it. I will not eat anything this bastard gives me.

S: I will find you!

(The words burst from Sherlock’s mouth quickly and loudly. John is startled into silence and the detective with him. He licks his lips and continues calmly.)

S: I will find you, John. I promise you.

(He stops and listens a moment to John’s regular breaths in and out. Sherlock inhales deeply and releases the air slowly as he measures his next words carefully.)

S: I want to find you, John, not your body. (He pauses, listening to John once again. Breathing in, breathing out. God, he wants to see him. Be next to him. Wrap his arms around him and breathe in John.

He hears John inhale. Sure the doctor is going to refuse, Sherlock adds quietly.)

S: Please. John.

(He hears an exhale, a sigh.)

J: Okay.

(Sherlock’s face breaks into an expression of relief, but he keeps it separated from his steely voice.)

S: Thank you.

(Greg breathes a sigh of relief, but his attention is quickly drawn away by the sound of Sally Donovan’s voice on his mobile.)

J: Sherlock, there’s something familiar about this...

JM: (taking the phone off speaker) Sorry, love, I’m afraid the reunion’s over. (speaking into the mobile again) Nicely done, Sherlock. That plea at the end almost sounded sincere.

(Sherlock growls quietly into his phone.)

S: I will kill you. If you touch him...

JM: (laughing) Bit late for that. (toward John) Wouldn’t you say, love? (back into the mobile) You’ll forgive me if I don’t chat. Things to do, lover to feed. You know how it is.

(The line goes dead before Sherlock can speak. His only connection to John severed, Sherlock throws his mobile to the floor and shouts in fury. Greg takes a step back in surprise and then yells over the detective.)

G: We got him! We got him!

(Sherlock snaps out of his rant immediately, spinning to face the DI.)

S: Where?

G: Not far. We can take my... What? What the fuck do you mean?! (Sherlock’s expression hardens and he tilts his head minutely.) Fuck! Fuck, Donovan, goddammit!

(Greg pitches his arm down and nearly follows suit with his own mobile.)

G: The bastard scrambled the signal. Locations are turning up all over and around London.

S: (kicking over a chair) FUCK!

(They both glare and try to regain some control. Sherlock inhales and pulls his brain back online, glancing around the room and then settling on Greg.)

S: Check them all.

G: We have to prioritize. Come to the Yard and tell me which are most likely, then the next group. We’ll do it in phases.

(Sherlock nods and they both go for the flat’s exit. Pausing briefly for Sherlock’s coat and scarf, the detective stops Greg for a moment as the DI opens the door.)

S: Thank you. For not saying you don’t have the resources.

G: (with a small smile) He’s my friend. You both are.

(Sherlock returns a similar smile and a nod, and they set off down the seventeen stairs to Baker Street.)

[avelera]

The War Within: Similarities Between Bilbo Baggins and John Watson, as played by Martin Freeman

A really excellent post about John Watson in Sherlock Season 4 by @thepurplewombat got me thinking about Martin Freeman’s acting, which got me thinking about Bilbo, as is my usual train of thought, and it put me in the mood to ramble a bit.

First of all, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actor have two characters be so infantilized as Martin Freeman’s roles are with John Watson and Bilbo Baggins. Both John and Bilbo are constantly depicted in fanworks as soft, emotional nurturers who often wear their heart on their sleeve and are the small, yaoi blond sub to their tall, dark, and brooding partner. This baffles me because it is a huge step away from the text, though of course this is all my opinion and I don’t want to come across as telling others how to do fanworks, so allow me to give my perspective.

Martin Freeman is very, very good in both of those roles at showing men at war within themselves. Martin once said the only similarity between Bilbo and John was the actor who plays them, and in that I’d say he’s wrong, or if he’s right it’s because he’s put something of himself so strongly into both roles that it would be uncomfortable to express in an interview. To the latter I cannot comment, not knowing the man personally, but here’s how I see the similarities between John and Bilbo:

Both John and Bilbo are defined by who they were supposed to be in life. John desperately wants to be normal, but more than that he wants to want to be normal. He sees his desire for action and danger, the desire that sent him into war in Afghanistan, as a faultline within himself. He resents the injury that sent him home from the war, where glimpses throughout the series (mostly in the first episode, but later his reaction to seeing Sholto) that the war was one of the high points of his life. More than his injury though, he resents in himself the fact that he misses the war. He wants to be someone who is glad to have been sent home, he wants to be someone who wants to put the war behind him as some sort of embarrassing adolescent phase, one that he’s grown out of in favor of settling down with a job as a doctor, a wife and children.

The reason, I think, for the sheer joie de vivre that we see in John in the first episode of BBC Sherlock, is because Sherlock allows John to be himself. He provides a replacement for the war, as Mycroft observes. For a short time, John is able to forget the war within himself and what he “should” do versus what he wants to do. But the tension returns soon after, as his nagging feeling that he should be working harder to settle down returns in 1.2 the Blind Banker with his dates with Sarah. For a little while we see John hoping he can live the superhero double life, but as this puts stress on his non-Sherlock relationships the tension within him is exacerbated. Can he really have it all, or does he have to choose, as the girlfriend Jeanette first puts into his mind in 2.1 Scandal in Belgravia, between a normal life and a fulfilling one with Sherlock?

I think there is a valid reason why so many fans and fanwork makers project a gay narrative onto John, and that’s because there is an element of struggling with one’s true desires running through the narrative. Like many gay men of a certain time period (and today), he wants to want a wife and children because it is the narrative society has told him he should want. He’s not only never been able to accept himself for who he is, which is a man who loves danger and who is lost, self-destructive, and off-kilter without it, but in addition when he is reminded of society he becomes resentful of the things and people that give him joy in life, namely danger, and Sherlock’s role in it. 

I daresay for a little while near the end of season 2, John was close to making a decision in his life between inflicted domesticity and desired danger. He was leaning towards Sherlock, which I think is the root of much of the ship’s popularity. Sherlock and John felt as if they were moving towards being finally open with one another, with accepting one another in their lives as something they needn’t be ashamed of, of moving on past what society asks of them. Again, one of the core plot points of many gay narratives. This all went to hell when Sherlock faked his death, and didn’t take John with him. 

John had dared to begin thinking he could buck what society wanted of him, but in return his life-- as he was beginning to build it-- was utterly destroyed. He dared to fly close to the sun, to happiness, and in his hubris he was crushed back to earth by Sherlock’s “death”. He did what many people do when confronted with such a trauma: he retreated back into the past. He made a somewhat superstitious assumption that he had been punished for not wanting domesticity, that he had been slapped down by the universe, and therefore that all that was left to him was to be who he was “supposed” to be - an upstanding member of society, a husband and father.

This is the reason why the revelation of Mary being an assassin was so traumatic in John’s life. Sherlock is back, and Mary is as dangerous as Sherlock, and as dangerous John had been on the battlefield. He had made the assumption that domesticity would protect him from himself, and it had failed. Now he has been burned badly by both sides of the desires in his life. He literally could not win and was horribly punished in both cases, losing Sherlock then losing his wife. Neither side of his personality could taste of anything but failure and grief. So yes, he became angry, he became introverted, as many trauma survivors do, he snapped at the people who represented either side of himself, he was seriously, deeply shell-shocked. 

And to a very real extent, Sherlock understands only later what he has done. The reason why the Christmas episode features Watson saving Holmes from the Reichenbach Falls goes the way it does is because Sherlock finally understands that his moment of over self-reliance by leaving John out of his plan to destroy Moriarty’s network is where he lost everything he really wanted. Sherlock’s version of a happy ending is one where he never faked his own death, and never lost John as a result. Had he not faked it, he and John were in the process of fumbling their way towards a happy life together. Unlike every other interpretation of Sherlock Holmes, the BBC Sherlock is one where John is unable to forgive Sherlock for his betrayal, and that in my opinion has poisoned the narrative and left so many viewers dissatisfied, because the show was at its best when it was two men who had no exact word for what they were to each other, but who knew they were better and happier together. Men who were willing to throw society aside in order to complete one another. Sherlock, as much as John, believed he had to be alone because society had shown him no one could accept his eccentricities, so he too was learning that they could ignore the voices outside and build something together. 

Adventure died, domesticity was used as a bandage to replace it, domesticity was poisoned, adventure returned only for John to discover that it too was poisoned by his grief and resentment which were in turn caused by the initial trauma of Sherlock’s death.

It may seem a jarring pivot here to suddenly switch to Bilbo Baggins, but indulge me. 

Gandalf upon meeting Bilbo again after many years is shocked at what he finds. He had considered young Bilbo to be one of the few hobbits of the Shire with a thirst for something more from life, and a desire for adventure. Yet the man he finds so many years later is an utter homebody who claims to want nothing more from life than the comfort and solitude of his home. 

We as the audience have not seen what happened in the intervening years, but we do get some hints from Gandalf: Bilbo’s parents have died, including his mother who loved adventure. He has refused to marry, though he is by all accounts the town’s most eligible bachelor, from the book we know it’s because part of Bilbo sensed he was waiting for something, someone to take him away who year after year never came. I would extrapolate here that the slow decay of time and society had beaten Bilbo into an acceptable, bland person. Not happy as such, but comfortable, and without the energy to change even as he never felt any true joy or purpose. This makes him similar to Martin’s John Watson, something that as an American is somewhat baffling to me and that I would typify as an “English” trait: both feel tremendous pressure to conform to society, while in their hearts they were meant for something different. 

We never see Bilbo smile quite so joyfully as when he finally takes the leap and runs out his door. Like John Watson leaving his cane behind and racing through the streets of London, he has rediscovered an inner fire that was thought dead. I hesitate to speculate on a real person, but given the similarities and some tidbits from Martin’s personal biography, I wonder if he has ever felt that split between being a respectable family man versus the glamour and extroversion of his career. Even in “Fargo” we get the sense of a man trapped by domesticity who longs to be something more (in the case of that story, a murderer, but to each his own). 

I tend to see Richard Armitage’s Thorin Oakenshield as the “Sherlock” of The Hobbit trilogy. It’s his quest that Bilbo embarks upon, so in a very real way he represents the danger that Bilbo is chasing after. Though Bilbo repeatedly mentions his desire to return to the comforts of his home, he only once attempts to do so and only after he perceives that Thorin (the adventure itself?) has rejected him. Once accepted into this life by Thorin’s embrace of Bilbo and his desire to help, it’s interesting to note that Bilbo never brings up Bag End again. And on Thorin’s deathbed, is is Thorin who reminds Bilbo of his desire to return home. Thorin vividly remembers that speech, perhaps because Thorin too is someone who is seeking home and recognized that desire in Bilbo but arguably from the opposite direction, in that Bilbo is enhanced by the desire to leave home for adventure, Thorin is enhanced by the desire to leave the world of adventure to return home.

What’s so striking about the moment when a dying Thorin urges to Bilbo to go home and live a long life is how confused Bilbo looks. He really does appear to have forgotten about Bag End entirely, just as he’s confused by Thorin’s request for forgiveness. In both cases, he seems utterly baffled that Thorin thought he needed forgiveness, and that Thorin thought Bilbo wanted to return home. Like John Watson on the case, he has found a life that makes him happy, he has forgotten domesticity. 

At least, both John and Bilbo forget domesticity until the life they dreamed of building outside it is suddenly, and brutally snatched from them by the death of the person that represented adventure to them. The only two times we see Bilbo cry in the trilogy is over the death of Thorin, once at the moment of his death and the second time at his funeral. Sherlock’s gravestone is the only time we see John lose his composure and give in to tears, at least until Mary’s death. (You would never know it given how often fanworks depict Bilbo and John as constantly in tears, but there you are.)

With Thorin snatched from him, Bilbo can’t even consider remaining in Erebor, not even for a day after the funeral. This wouldn’t be so odd, given the emphasis the character has placed on returning to Bag End, if not for what happens when he finally returns to Bag End. 

Bilbo’s return to Bag End is strikingly not a happy ending. After disrupting the auction of his belongings, Bilbo enters an empty, grey home that is in ruins in much the same manner as Thorin’s Erebor. Both homes were ransacked by greed, both leave the returning hero bereft and under the sway of evil, cursed gold. Our last glimpse of young Bilbo’s face is almost demonic as he smiles down to one comfort remaining in his life: Sauron’s Ring. For all that The Hobbit trilogy is about the desire to return home, in both cases we learn that home is perhaps the most dangerous and toxic place for our characters to return to. The domestic has been corrupted, the only purity lies in adventure and the road, where Bilbo returns as soon as he is free (60 years later) of the Ring’s influence.

Why did Bilbo return home? Because he wanted to, because Thorin asked him to, because he felt it was the right thing to do? Whatever the case, we see it is a bad place for him, a place where he is utterly alone with his demons. John Watson is not so different, we rarely see him truly smile when he is not on the case with Sherlock, yet he feels continuously compelled to go on dates, to marry, to settle down, to raise a family that he seems ultimately unable to connect with because it’s not where his true passions lie. Bilbo, by the way, never marries.

Both John Watson and Bilbo Baggins, as portrayed by Martin Freeman, are men caught between their soul’s desire for danger and adventure, and their society’s desire for them to stay home and conform. Freeman’s tremendous acting ability, especially his talent for showing a character thinking two things at once, enhances this aspect, or perhaps places it in both of characters in the first place. Perhaps it is something that comes from within the man himself. Perhaps it’s just a character he feels he understands for other reasons. But the popular fanon of John or Bilbo being domestic, protective nurturers has always rung false to me. They are both men of action who have been forced to be otherwise by a society that wants to soften them. But there is anger within them, there is rage, there is an adventurer that loves danger more than comfort longing to get out, and that inner turmoil sets up within them an endless inner war.

[escailyyy]

Exasperating also starts with E

(Note: this is an Au where Eurus never killed VT and grew up as normal in the Holmes household as the baby of the family, she’s still a sociopath, so this happened…)

"Are you ever going to tell Molly Hooper that you love her?” Was the first thing Sherlock heard upon entering Baker Street after a long case, admittedly he should be used to his little sister showing up at his flat for no reason other than to annoy him, but honestly he thought it was Mycroft’s turn this month .

“And good evening to you too Eurus” Sherlock sighed turning around to find her sitting in his chair casually eating from a tub of (obviously expensive, imported specifically for high priority clients, delivered just two hours ago by a messenger with sweaty hands) Marchetti Gelato, she was wearing the Pajamas Mycroft had give her last Christmas and apparently seemed to have the ludicrous idea that he was back to his eight year old self who’d indulged her in as many pretend tea parties as she wished “I thought you said sleepovers were for goldfishes and amoeba brained females not worth associating with”

(Adult Eurus had never graduated from her ‘force my brothers to play tea party with me’ phase. And unlike Mycroft, who’d easily used his seniority to escape their little sister’s manipulative feminine machinations as soon as humanly possible, Sherlock never really had it in him to push her away)

“And he avoids my question, big surprise there, do have some Gelato, I even had this Ginger Nut flavor comissioned just for you” Eurus smiled extending the tub in his direction “you know that you are my favorite brother don’t you?”

“Yes I am aware, considering that the other option is Mycroft and I always win by default, although I apreciate the effort to sweeten what will undoubtedly be a conversation fraught with manipulation tactics and no I do not love Molly Hooper” Sherlock replied, putting away his bellstaff loosening his scarf and accepting the gelato “speaking of which how is your dear James?”

“Still hiding behind his lawyer in an effort to avoid me” Eurus sighed dramatically with a wave of her hand

“Well to be fair Moriarty isn’t an idiot, I think most men would prefer his high security prison in the middle east over facing your wrath after his failure to remember your aniversary” Sherlock didn’t have to make his disapproval of his sister’s choice of boyfriend known, after all it was the frequent topic of discussion among family dinners and the only subject Mycroft and he agreed on lately, but when it came to life sentences the Holmes brothers didn’t think that there was anything worse than being subjected to Eurus and the mercurial moods she hid under her sociopathic personality, so they both refrained from outright trying to get themselves rid of him.

“As James should” Eurus huffed “but he won’t be able to plead guilty forever if I make sure evidence of the contrary begins to accumulate around him” And considering the latest petty crime Moriarty had pleaded guilty for involved the assassination of a well known Middle East religious leader, Sherlock didn’t doubt his sister’s threat “are we done with your deflections Sherlock?, answer me already, when is that love confession taking place?”

“Very well Eurus, I’ll humor you” the 'else you’ll never let the subject drop’ was implied but thankfully not voiced, if one thing was true among the Holmes family was that Sherlock loved his like minded sister and rarely left an opportunity to talk to her go to waste “why do you think that I am as you so eloquently put it 'in love’ with Molly Hooper when you know I firmly believe that sentiment is a waste of time”

“Because you are, do you need me to make a PowerPoint presentation to illustrate it?” Eurus snorted, reminding Sherlock of their teenage years and her old perchance for whining about always being right “Anyone with high IQ can see it”

“So Papa has finally given you the grandchildren ultimatum huh?”

“No more than he gave it to Mycroft but that’s not the point”

“Youre his only daughter of course its the point, Papa wants grandbabies to spoil and you as the daddy’s girl that you are, do not want to dissapoint him, you wouldn’t be here trying to matchmake me otherwise” Sherlock shot back smugly “stop saying I’m in love with Molly”

“may I remind you that of all the people in this sentiment riddled universe Molly Hooper is the only one you’ve voluntarily apologized to?”

“It doesn’t prove anything” Sherlock dodged sitting in his armchair “I respect Molly, she’s my friend”

“You analyze her life choices and clothing preferences more than you do any other female in your acquaintance and that includes mummy, Mrs Hudson, Mary Watson and Me” Eurus listed off ticking her fingers “I don’t have much experience with actual friends but as the social manipulation expert in this family I can tell you that friends do not do that”

“I do NOT analyze Molly’s life choices, I deduce them and offer helpful advice, which according to John IS what friends do”

“Then why do you always hold your deductions whenever the topic of sex comes up around her?” Eurus challenged him with a smug smile as if to say 'go ahead, try to deduce yourself out of that question’ “it wouldn’t happen to be because your mind palace automatically supplies complimentary material would it? You used to say that intercourse was part of human nature”

Sherlock internally blanched, his sister really knew too much “because it has come to my attention that talking about someone else’s sexual habits and preferences in a social setting is potentially embarrassing for them”

“I see I’ll have to help you along, honestly your level of denial is quite impressive” If Eurus had been a little younger she’d have reached for fake glasses and written Sherlock’s name on a clipboard like she used to do when she’d mockingly declared she wanted to be a psychologist after her tenure in Sherrinford “why if its potentially embarrassing do you still do it to virtually anyone…exept Molly?”

“Because Molly is different, she’s not an idiot, she’s useful to me and good at her job”

“So you get no satisfaction out of making her feel like an idiot I understand, yet one could argue that Mycroft and I arent idiots either and you infer about our sexual lives often enough” Eurus pointed out taking a spoonful of gelato “why is molly different?”

“Because she is!” Sherlock grunted instantly regretting it by the knowing look his younger sister was giving him “what I mean to say is that, talking to her about the subject never feels correct to me, Molly isn’t …”

“Able to talk about sex like a normal adult? Why Sherlock she’s a healthy woman in her thirties who disects naked human bodies for a living, I would think she’s probably very open about it” Eurus ventured innocently “her past boyfriends seem like they were enjoying themselves at the very least”

“Would you please stop taking about Molly Hooper and sexual expertise in the same sentence!” The consulting detective finally snapped

“You ruin all her relationships”

“Its not my fault that she seems to attract men with criminal tendencies”

“Oh please, you announce to any who can hear the most inconsequential things, who cares if the paralegal with the bleach teeth was evading his taxes? His only crime was talking to your precious pathologist during her lunch break” why was it that Eurus always managed to sound fifteen whenever she tried to meddle in his life?, she was a genius in all parts of her life, but as a sister Eurus Holmes could really be a pain in Sherlock’s ass when she wanted to be"If you haven’t deduced it, I’ll have you know even James could tell that her relationships are your blind spot"

“Please don’t remind me about the famous 'Jim from IT’ considering that masquerading as Molly’s date isnt an ideal way of meeting my younger sister’s psychopath boyfriend ”

“ Life partner” Eurus corrected without missing a beat “James and I don’t use amaeba terms to classify our conection” then remembering something funny she added with a chuckle “The 'Molly factor’ blindsided your deductions so badly you even thought James was gay, as if someone like him would limit himself by the sexuality and gender of his partners”

“Nowdays I even doubt that he’s limited by their consent, species or lack of pulse” Sherlock rolled his eyes, glaring at his sister “But then again he’s saddled with you, so what should I expect? After all I’ve seen his bruises and heard the tortured screams”

“What can I say I like things rough and James is the only man I know who gives as good as he gets” Eurus shrugged and Sherlock had to remind himself that she wasn’t the type to worry about the gender, sexual orientation, lack of consent or inmorality of her sexual acts either “he has a certain je nes se quais that fits me so well”

“Spare me the details Eurus, there’s a reason I never frequent your Knightsbridge flat”

“Me thinks the gentleman doth protest too much, your Molly hasn’t been raised under a rock you know, why, if my airlines didn’t keep me so busy I’d think I might even grow to like her, I would wager my escapes with James wouldn’t shock her”

“Keep your evil machinations away from Molly Hooper sister mine” Sherlock warned narrowing his eyes “You already played you games with John and it almost cost him his marriage, if you so much as try the same on Molly so help me science I will make you regret it”

“Why would I want to make my future sister in law despise me?” Eurus laughed letting Sherlock see in her eyes a glint of the madness she kept firmly under lock and key in the confines of her own mind palace “you should really hasten that love confession Sherlock, you won’t be virile forever you know, after all we don’t know if all those drugs you’ve taken in the past have affected your fertility” she taunted in a sing song voice

“I’m perfectly fertile and perfectly virile! Molly would have nothing to complain about in that aspect” Sherlock exclaimed outraged realizing belatedly thst he’d falken for Eurus’ bait “I meant it in a purely hypothetical situation”

“ARGH I blame Mycroft for this! If he hadn’t put the 'emotions are evil’ mantra in your head you wouldn’t be acting like a preschooler pulling the pigtails of the girl he fancies” Eurus groaned putting her head in her hands “what have I done to deserve this?” The answer : probably a lot

“Funny, Mycroft blames you for crippling Victor’s legs in that blasted well and coloring my perception of human relationships with trauma”

“He locked me in SHERRINFORD for three years because of it, excuse me if I disregard his opinion on the state of your psyche”

Sherlock sighed, he supposed they all were self fulfilling prophecies, being the middle child in a family of geniuses had never been easy, specially because their whole sibling dynamic hinged on Sherlock’s hability to stay neutral in the feud between Eurus and Mycroft, who by all means hated each other during a good day

But Eurus liked Sherlock and Mycroft liked Sherlock so they made an effort to not attempt mutual murder if it kept them in their middle brother’s good graces.

“Sherlock you leave me no choice! If you don’t get your head out of your rectal cavity where Molly Hooper is concerned and tell her that you love her I’ll have to force the issue with Mycroft” Eurus outlined in no uncertain terms, eyes flashing the way they only did when she played violin “and believe me I won’t be as nice to him as I’m to you”

“It would take a battering ram to knock down Mycroft long enough to give papa grandchildren and we both know it” Sherlock exclaimed, then narrowing his eyes the posibility that Eurus was in fact unhinged enough to put her brain to the task of breaking Mycroft “you wouldn’t, even YOU have to draw a line somewhere”

“Andrea has been working with him for how long? Since high school if I’m not mistaken, I happen to know a philanthropic a armament mogul that is looking for a public relations manager and well…How bored must Andrea be in that silly little desk, chained to our brother, doing paperwork all day, a woman of her capabilities deserves more and Mycroft doesnt let her do an ounce of fieldwork, if I happened to offer the position to her, adding the fact that our mogul has the highest number of assassination attempts in any bounty hunter’s book, she’d accept right away, if only to get to use her fancy guns” Eurus began innocently as tough outlining her lunch break plans

Deducing exactly who she was referring to Sherlock groaned “Nikolai Udinov? You would send Andrea to manage the life of that reprobate? Mycroft would never allow it”

“Well what do you expect? If Andrea leaves her job and him for good I calculate that it will take Mycroft less than two months to crack, she does his laundry, paperwork, calls, orders him his cakes, decorates his bunkers, manages his agents with an iron fist, Andrea practically breathes for him and Mycroft needs the wake up call” Eurus smiled with a hint of malice “so many agents have fallen in Udinov’s maze of secrets…It would be a pity if Mycroft’s greek flower was next”

“That’s because Nikolai Udinov is the type of assignment that goverment agents train for years to take on, the bullseye in his back is larger than Mycroft’s ego ” Sherlock snapped wondering again why he hadnt trottled his sister yet “you’d be manipulating Andrea into strong arming Godfather Death”

“Correction Mycroft will THINK she’s taking on Godfather Death” Eurus snapped rolling her eyes “She’ll be fine, I wasn’t lying when I said Agent Anthea is quite competent and she’s been wanting to do fieldwork since her thirtieth birthday, my people will make sure she doesn’t get killed”

Sherlock didn’t even want to ask about who 'her people’ were, like he did with Mycroft and they did with him, the less the Holmes siblings knew about eachother’s ocassional dabblings in the wrong side of the law the better “You’ll just have Mycroft believe she is, but why?”

Eurus huffed tempted to just repeat Sherlock’s famous 'you see but you don’t observe’ dribble that he always spewed to John Watson “Because it will kill Mycroft to lose Andrea and I’ll enjoy seeing him suffer” Eurus shrugged “think about it Sherlock, Andrea has been a fixture in Mycroft’s life since your uni days, the only time you and I see him without her is on social situations and even then she’s always one text away from him, he trusts her with all of his sensitive information”

“You assume that he cares about her” Sherlock snorted mystified “Mycroft doesnt do sentiment Eurus, not even for Andrea”

“Oh how blind my brothers can be when they wish to” Eurus laughed taking out a bag of chips from her purse and biting a couple “I don’t assume, I KNOW, just as I know that you love Molly, the difference is that Andrea is more likely to wait to have children, but as I said I’ll force the issue if I have to”

“If Agent Anthea dies because you wanted to get out of giving our parents grandchildren then forget about Sherrinford, he’ll hire a submarine and drop you in the Atlantic with a crew of deaf personell”

“You could also tell your morgue mouse that you love her, then I wont have to threaten Mycroft’s potted plant”

Eurus like always, had a better grasp of the ins and outs of sentiment than her two elder brothers, a fact both Sherlock and Mycroft often resented, because while Sherlock fought his battles with logic and Mycroft with dry politics, Eurus manipulated people using their emotions against them. She’d rarely used her 'gift’ on Sherlock preferring to keep herself occupied with her chain of airlines and her side work as a data analyst (when she wasn’t dabbling in her illegal hobbies) apparently tough she was doing it now.

Sherlock didn’t find it amusing.

“I suppose I should be grateful that you have not threatened to kill Molly yet and instead chose to talk to me about it in a rational way, isn’t that what your point is?”

“Yes! And I feel deeply offended that you don’t appreciate the gesture, I could have bulldozed trough your childhood traumas just to make you see sense” Eurus huffed clearly not happy by Sherlock’s lack of gratitude “I don’t see why you wont just admit the truth”

“You’re seeing things where they don’t exist, don’t you think that if zi loved Molly I would know?”

“NO! BECAUSE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND SENTIMENT” she shot back with an angry glare, then Eurus sighed and did the one thing that always brought Sherlock to his knees, she opened her big dark eyes and gave him a very sincere part of her vulnerability “Sherlock” she began, her tone belying how much she wasn’t trying to manipulate him this time “you’ve been there for me trought all the hard things in my life, you who have supported me even in things we both know you knew better than to support…Is it really such a surprise to know that I want to see you happy?”

“as my little sister, wanting to see me happy comes with the territory” Sherlock replied putting the desert down and returning her sincerety “the truth is that I don’t see a future where I can keep Molly safe, I have too many enemies…she deserves better than me, she always has”

“And yet she loves you, all of you, far strongly than you deserve”

“Foolish woman that she is” Sherlock chuckled “I can’t love her Eurus, I’d be placing a red mark in her forehead if I did”

“Sherlock, there’s always going to be Blackwoods, Magnussens and Black Lotus organisations in this world, in fact there’s drunk drivers and bad weather and unhealthy eating habits all who cause death on daily basis, but for you there’s only one Molly” Eurus tried reasoning softly “ its hard enough for people like us to form lasting human connections, I’ve come to learn it takes years of persistence to completely bond with someone else and the fact that you are capable of it is something I’ve always admired far beyond Mycroft’s Iceman facade”

“Speaking from experience?” He raised an eyebrow taking care not to break the fragile bubble of vulnerability they’d reached

“Its always nice to know that there’s always someone out there who will care about you beyond the trappings of your psyche” Eurus agreed cryptically, giving Sherlock a tiny insight into the twisted reason why his sister hadn’t allowed Moriarty to blow his brains off after Sherlock’s fall “isn’t that how Molly makes you feel? I admit she’s no Nocturne like Irene Adler in looks or sexual appeal but I don’t believe I could be wrong in what I see when you look at her while her back is turned”

“Don’t put Molly in the same category as the woman…Irene is a capriccio, an Intermezzo with too many Staccato harmonies and not enough tenerezza, more Opera than Nocturne she’s filled with high octaves and acciaccaturas, Molly is her own sonata”

“Now that is quite surprising” It had never occurred to Eurus that Sherlock might have a melody for Molly, mainly because if he did he’d want Eurus to hear it at least once, given her brother and her shared a love for violin that often lent itself to describing people in musical terms according to how they saw the world but honestly Eurus expected Sherlock to classify Molly as a chloral “how does Molly sound?”

“Molly is shades of Adagios, Dolce notes and intermitent Allegros, that rise and fall without damaging the integrity of the composition, any more notes and she could have been a ballet or a solft waltz” Sherlock sounded so sure, humming a few bars to let her understand the gist of his thoughts, always far more comfortable expressing sentiment trough music than in words

“I wonder why you have never played her for an audience” Eurus genius that she was didn’t need to see him play to hear the notes in her head, the soft tone of the violin and the spikes of the Sonata’s hidden edges “she sounds like comming home” was all Eurus could say after the song finished playing in her mental fortress “your very own masterpiece”

“Her melody isn’t for public to hear” Sherlock replied ruminanting in his sister’s words, because she had put into words the elusive title that he’d never given to the Sonata that belonged to Molly Hooper 'comming home’ was an apt name for the piece and if he was honest with himself he had to admit it had been that way for a long time, Molly herself was the kind of person who’s existence validated the part of Sherlock who needed a place to run to when things got difficult “she makes me feel accepted, when it comes to Molly I always know that whatever I do, or wherever I go, I will always have a place to call home in her life, the Sonata always changes in degrees of subtleties” hadn’t that been the reason he’d felt so hurt by her (failed) engagement to Meat dagger? Because he’d assumed she would always be there… and on the heels of that thought the realization struck “Because I love her”

Eurus could have clapped her hands in joy at the breaktrough of her brother, and to think it hadn’t taken any death threats, really Sherlock was so much better to reason with than Mycroft “then why do you keep wasting so much time?” She asked still trying to be understanding

“You don’t understand Eurus, I LOVE HER” Sherlock exclaimed in shock and Eurus could see the beginning of what looked like a very Holmes panic attack “And I’ve hurt her in the past so badly…and you KNEW” he was referring of course to the fact that Eurus hadn’t told him what she suspected since day one

“In all honesty I thought that you would have noticed your attraction to your pathologist since the moment you began your game of 'flirting for organs’ I didn’t expect the situation to last this long” Eurus admitted sheepishly reminding Sherlock of the way she used to intentionally assume that he’d clean his bedroom when he had a nasty experiment rotting in his desk, conveniently not reminding him to throw it away “its not my fault, its yours” So maybe his mind palace was undergoing a major rearrangement, Eurus could work with that..hopefully

“What do I do now?” Sherlock groaned putting his head in his hands “I love her”

“You do whatever mummy would do I suppose, she’s the one who is good at handling non-sociopaths” Eurus tried to help along “maybe you should confer with Dr Watson, I fear my continued advice in that subject would nderimental to your latest breaktrough” Aka: Eurus would not give Sherlock romantic life hacks, she simply wasn’t willing to.

“Mummy…would make lunch, maybe a pot of her favourite tea” Sherlock agreed pensively “and ease Molly slowly into the situation”

“Not too slowly, I want my first nephew to be born preferably within the next year or so” Eurus asserted as tough she were giving Sherlock her takeaway order “you will make mostly male children given both of your genetic profiles but I’d still like at least one of them to be named after me if possible”

“Have you ever thought that Molly might not want children? If anything she hasn’t agreed to even date me yet, let alone get engaged or conceive with me…”

“Tiny crime solving pathologists?” Eurus supplied when he couldn’t bring himself to say the word children “Sherlock a basic deduction of Molly’s life would point towards a desire for a nuclear family, more to the point she’d want it and she’d want it with you, the only sibling in our circle liable to be successful in raising another generation of Holmes geniuses” considering Mycroft and Eurus would most likely cause their offspring some degree of psychological issues with their parenting techniques, it didn’t sound so much like a compliment

Aaaand there went their bonding moment, Eurus was back to her manipulative self “Maybe you should leave” Sherlock muttered comming in and out of buffering mode “as much as I enjoy our interludes, I don’t think I’m fit for company or will be for the next few hours”

“Maybe I should, my work here is done” Eurus agreed rising from her seat and dusting her Pajamas “I expect that a sleepover wouldn’t be any fun anyway, not with the way your thoughts are shouting”

Noticing the changes in the tone of her voice Sherlock briefly paused his panic attack to regard his sister with a suspicious stare “Stay away from my pathologist Eurus, I mean it”

“I will, but be a smart boy and keep an eye on her, I heard your old friend Victor is back in town” Eurus attempted to joke “Maybe you should move her here for a few days, you know, for security reasons” And with that parting shot his sister breezed out of Baker Street leaving a very stressed Sherlock no choice but to phone Molly

“Gasp and Bloody Works what can I do for you?” Molly’s cheerful voice answered her mobile, Sherlock could hear the sound of a bone saw in the distance and deduced he’d caught her in the middle of an autopsy

A million thoughts raced trough his head but he settled for a mundane response, no need to alarm her “Bad time for a call?”

“Oh it’s you Sherlock, sorry I didn’t see the caller ID, funny you should phone I just got the most interesting body with a unidentified brain aneurysm, I thought you might find it interesting so no its not a bad time at all” she always sounded in good mood whenever he called, give or take a few exemptions, Molly always tried her best to be positive about everything including his cases.

“Really? A brain you say” Sherlock perked up before remembering the subject at hand “actually I was calling to ask for a favor, but the brain aneurysm sounds quaint, please save it for future study”

'smooth Sherlock real smooth’ mind palace john muttered

'Not now Watson’

Molly who knew him well enough to know that if he wanted to ask for something big he’d do it in person and not by phone had no qualms in replying “what kind of favor? Sherlock is this for a case?, you know that as long as its within my power I will help you”

“No its not for a case, this is more of a personal favor, I need to stay in your flat for an undefined amount of time” there he said it now all he had to do was get Molly to agree, because while this wasn’t the first time he’d used her place as a bolthole it was the one time he’d do it for sentiment’s sake and consent was important.

“Wait, why? Are you okay” the bone saw was turned off and Sherlock could hear the unecessary concern in the voice of the woman he’d just realised he loved.

“yes I’m fine, but I have reasons to believe that my privacy in Baker Street has been compromised” and he needed to make sure Molly’s hadn’t been. Lest Eurus perchance for giving people a push in the right direction landed Molly in the bottom of a well.

“By who?”

Sherlock gave a long suffering sigh and answered “by my sister”

An: I’ve thought up Eurus as a dark version of Georgiana to Sherlock’s Mr Darcy hope she wasn’t to occ, this fic is for all my Sherllolian folks on tumblr, who are just awesome

[hawksmoor17]

"Oh for God’s sake, Sherlock, it doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.”

I just rewatched HLV and couldn’t help but notice how much emphasis Mycroft put upon how incredibly unimportant the type of gun Mary uses is and how Sherlock should most certainly not pay attention to it.

And then I did a bit of research and discovered some intense mirrors.

In this post I cover: - The significance of Mary and Norbury sharing the same pistol - John’s pistol vs. the pistol we see used in TFP - The different shots of smoking guns within TLD - Possible EMP explanations - “Eurus” shooting John at the end of TLD - An analysis of the gun we see only once after Sherlock’s monologue about “taking your own life” during the bridge scene in TLD

The firearm Mary uses to shoot Sherlock is a Walther PPK with a sound suppressor.

This is also James Bond’s signature firearm.

The gun that Norbury uses to shoot Sherlock in the aquarium scene in TST is also a Walther PPK. This entire scene has repeatedly been referred to as Bond-esque and Mark Gatiss went to the trouble of writing a poem to draw even more attention to this fact.

Occurring in bullet time, Mary jumps in front of Norbury’s shot in an impossible stunt, sacrificing herself in a melodramatic scene that calls back to Molly’s line:

“It’s not like it is in the movies. There’s not a great spurt of blood and you go flying backwards.”

This means that this scene is supposed to be seen as a mirror or a foil to Sherlock being shot in HLV, and working into EMP, either a partial or completely constructed memory based upon preconceived stimulus.

HLV = Mary shoots Sherlock, and her fake persona ‘dies’, Sherlock dies and then comes back to life to save John TST = “Norbury” shoots Sherlock, and Mary actually dies, maintaining her fake persona, and Sherlock lives (but is going to die anyway from OD’ing unless John intervenes — both Sherlock and John have to save each other to repair the damage Mary has done)

Digressing a bit here, but, it needs saying — the Walther PPK is Mary’s gun. And in the Blind Banker, General Shan is a Moriarty mirror, but her firearm of choice is the Bruni/BBM "ME-8 Police" which was a derivative of / modelled after the Walther PPK. Might be relevant, might not be. Considering the important developments related to “M” Theory within this episode, it makes me wonder what the significance of this is.

At the end of the episode, the gun “Eurus” shoots John with isn’t a Walther PPK, it’s a SIG-Sauer Pro SP2022. Only John and Sherlock are ever associated with SIG-Sauer pistols. (Eurus = John and Sherlock)

But when the gun goes off instead of seeing her gun we get a shot of the Walther PPK that Norbury used in TST/Mary used in HLV, which has been repeated in Sherlock’s flashbacks multiple times over the course of TLD such as in the opening scene and the bridge scene.

The screen goes red in the final Walther PPK shot from TLD after “Eurus” shoots John as a visual James Bond reference, creating a link to both the aquarium and HLV.

So when “Eurus” shoots John and we don’t see her SIG-Sauer model, it means that John is “killed” metaphorically by the shot that “Norbury” takes. But this is also metaphorical. The scene with Norbury isn’t real.

(continued under the cut)

Which means, because this Walther PPK is seen smoking without the silencer that Mary used in HLV, against a grey background, not a blue one like when Norbury takes the shot, we haven’t seen the real footage of this gun being fired yet. A few explanations I’ve come up with to explain this are:

1) John can be seen as being indirectly killed by Mary shooting Sherlock in HLV through his grief over Sherlock being in a coma/near-death EMP state. 2) John can be seen as being indirectly killed by Mary shooting Sherlock in HLV because it metaphorically represents the demons of her past being the reason Sherlock kills Magnussen and is sent away to die. 3) Mary literally shoots John, either in CAM tower, the empty houses, or after Sherlock goes into cardiac arrest in 221B. 4) Mary shoots herself and frames Sherlock/John for her murder, perhaps sentencing one of them to death/life in prison in a similar way to Sherlock being sent away after shooting Magnussen.

Considering the dark grey background of the smoking Walther PPK shot (as well as the mystery gun featured once in TLD), the Showdown™ either occurs in the empty houses or at CAM tower. Sherlock would not have been present if the firefight occurred after he passed out in 221B, plus the likely fake Christmas scene (which Sherlock has a flashback to in TST despite not being present) first starts during the empty houses scene.

The different values of grey we can see in these two different shots makes me wonder if they even occur at the same time. Mary’s Walther PPK is silenced in CAM tower and unsilenced when she is in the empty houses and shoots the coin. This scene also matches up with the dark background.

Whereas the second clip of a gun we see looks brighter, like it was either from in the empty houses when Sherlock turns the lights on, or from the CAM tower scene. (The wall is dark behind Mary, light behind Sherlock.)

But Mary is left-handed.

Either A) She isn’t the one firing either of these flashback guns or B) She’s shooting with her non-dominant hand for a reason — possibly to frame someone.

“You were upset so you told yourself a better story.”

So far, I can only see a couple of explanations for why The Six Thatchers blog post is recreated in TST.

1) TST takes place within Sherlock’s Mind Palace and acts metaphorically. 2) TD-12/the HOUND drug has been used on Sherlock and he has filled in his missing memories with the blog entry “The Six Thatchers”.

Personally, considering Sherlock’s repressed memories of guns going off, I’m erring on the side of EMP, considering how things start getting surreal the moment Sherlock “wakes up” in hospital and his heart monitor starts running backwards as opposed to forwards in a clip that looks like it’s been reversed.

This means that Sherlock recreates the plot of The Six Thatchers because he feels it’s relevant to his circumstance. A spouse killing a spouse out of murderous jealousy because of a love affair with their best friend. But the twist is that we have no idea who tries to kill who.

TRANSMEDIA MIRROR SCENARIOS:

TST blog post = Person A, a John mirror, has an affair with Person B, a Sherlock mirror. Person C, a Mary mirror, then kills Person A, a John mirror, out of murderous jealousy. (SCENARIO A: Mirror Mary kills John as revenge).

Twitter ARG/#SherlockLive = Daniel, a Mary mirror, drugs and attempts to kill Sophie, a Sherlock mirror, before framing her for his own murder due to her secretly being in love with Joey, a John mirror. (SCENARIO B: Mirror Mary frames Sherlock for her death and kills herself as revenge).

CANON/EPISODE-BASED SCENARIOS:

TST = Person A, John, has an affair with Person B, Sherlock. Person C, Mary, fakes suicide in an attempt to kill both parties. (SCENARIO C: Mirror Mary kills Mary, she jumps in front of a bullet / commits suicide as revenge.)

HLV = Person A, John, has an affair with Person B, Sherlock, Person C, Mary, kills Person B, Sherlock, out of murderous jealousy. (SCENARIO D: Mary kills Sherlock as revenge).

We’re presented with four different situations. One in which Mary kills John, one in which Mary kills Sherlock, and at least three in which Mary frames Sherlock/John for her death.

I suspect a false dichotomy is presented here and Sherlock does get shot by Mary, however, Mary faking her own murder is also a part of it.

A brief return to Eurus shooting John at the end of TLD:

Where Eurus handles a SIG-Sauer Pro SP2022, there are only two other firearms of the same SIG model on the show.

The first being John’s SIG-Sauer P226R that we first see in his desk drawer at the beginning of ASiP.

And the second being the two-tone SIG-Sauer P226 that features extensively within TFP.

Where the SIG-Sauer is primarily John’s gun, Sherlock also borrows it quite a bit over the course of the series.

And with Sherlock and John acting as two halves of a whole / the black pieces vs. the white pieces on a chess board, I can see the two-tone SIG-Sauer as being a gun that represents both of them. This links into the fact that this is the gun provided by “Eurus”.

But here is where things get really weird.

Back on the bridge during The Lying Detective, we see two different gun shots. The second, of course, is Norbury/Mary’s Walther PPK. But the first we only ever see once and it occurs after Sherlock’s monologue:

“Taking your own life. Interesting expression. Taking it from who? Once it’s over, it’s not you who will miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it.”

Whose gun is this?

It’s not John’s. The front sight (little metal bit at the top) is too small, as is the ejection port, meaning that it can’t be a SIG-Sauer model.

I’ve been discussing this with gun experts/enthusiasts for the last couple of days and many suspect that it’s some sort of variation of the Browning Hi-Power. This makes sense as the Hi-Power is the standard issue pistol for the British military and secret service and was only phased out in 2013.

“Is that a British Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

Moriarty knows that Sherlock has connections to the Secret Service, and since he stalks Sherlock, it’s likely that Sherlock has actually owned a Browning L9A1 variant in the past. 

When Moriarty says this line, Sherlock doesn’t bother correcting him (”Both”), despite the fact that he isn’t actually using a Browning and we never see him with a firearm of his own, always using John’s SIG-Sauer or borrowing another character’s.

Back to the TLD bridge — the gun we see also can’t be the Browning L9A1 model — the front sight is the wrong shape and the spring plug (circle below the barrel) doesn’t match.

However, out of all the people I talked to, Browning Hi-Power variants were frequently mentioned across the board — we just couldn’t pin down a specific model. The closest we got was (Crvena) Zastava model M70 in .32acp / 7.65mm Browning.

This is a Serbian model/remake of the British Browning.

This gun looks like a direct match save for a custom-fitted sight, which is probably a modification related to the gun-owner’s preferences. Either that or it’s a similar model such as Browning 1911 380.

It also has a spring rod, which is unusual, and may be an indication that the gun is actually an airsoft substitute for filming due to the UK’s laws surrounding the possession of firearms.

(Zastava model M70 in .32acp pictured below.)

This suggests that the gun we see on the bridge is actually Sherlock’s gun from his time in Serbia.

This is by no means confirmed, but considering the fact that the Browning was mentioned across the board by at least twelve different gun-enthusiasts I contacted ... I’m pretty much sold.

The only other person I can think that this could possibly belong to is Mycroft (connected to both the secret service and Serbia) — and that wouldn’t fit in with Sherlock’s monologue about suicide.

Sherlock, John, Mary. Zastava Browning, SIG-Sauer P226R, Walther PPK. Three guns, three gunshots, one suicide. Mary shoots Sherlock with a silencer. Someone shoots Mary’s gun right-handed without a silencer. Someone shoots Sherlock’s gun right-handed.

Who shot who and why?

I should mention that despite the fact that the user of the gun is right-handed and John is left-handed, John shoots right-handed due to his military training. John also punches Sherlock with his right hand during the morgue scene, which would’ve made me suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that John punches that police officer in the face with his right hand after he calls Sherlock a weirdo in The Reichenbach Fall. 

Another thing I should mention is that despite being a John mirror, Faith’s gun isn’t even a SIG-Sauer variant, it’s a two-tone HK USP compact, which, as far as I’m aware, isn’t used at all anywhere else in the series. Although, the Internet Movie Firearms Database hasn’t been updated to include all firearms featured within Season 3 and 4. Which is frustrating because there are likely relevant mirrors we’re missing. 

The only reason I can currently see behind her having this gun is that it’s a two-tone which could indicate that this gun is a mirror of the two-tone SIG-Sauer Sherlock and John use in TFP.

I’ll leave you with this:

“Sherlock: It’s this or Cluedo. John: Ah, no. We are never playing that again. Sherlock: Why? John: Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock.”

EDIT 21/02/16: Literally ignore all of my BS about the gun on the bridge being Sherlock’s British Browning. I’d be incredibly surprised if it wasn’t a prop gun meant to represent John’s SIG model.

Thoughts?

@jenna221b @the-7-percent-solution @worriesconstantly @teapotsubtext @misanthropic-acedia @drugsbust @toxicsemicolon @graceebooks @theveryunnecessaryfeelings @my-relaxation @joolabee 

[the-signs-of-two]

I have an exam today, so this’ll be quick, but just... no worries, guys. No worries. I’ve obviously not had time to do a full subtextual analysis of mirrors and symbols and everything, but honestly... I don’t think the Johnlock plot is buried deep enough for that to be strictly necessary anymore. This is literally the top layer of this episode:

Sherlock returns from his 4-minute exile high as a kite, but he’s also drunk on a mixture of extreme joy and extreme sorrow. He’s joyful that he’s back and alive and with John, but he’s also heartbroken that John has chosen to be a husband and a father and fulfill his duties to his family. During the next weeks, Sherlock busies himself with cases as he always does when he’s actually hurting so much that he can’t stand being fully present in his own life. He fiddles constantly with his phone/heart, but it’s neither fulfilling the purpose of distracting him nor fulfilling the purpose of helping him track down Moriarty. He’s completely passionless and it shows in the fact that he’s lost his edge, he doesn’t seem enthusiastic when solving cases at all anymore. Sherlock, though, is adamant that he is going to protect the life John seems to want to lead, even though John’s choice breaks his heart.

Meanwhile, John is feeling absolutely miserable in his family. He obviously loves his daughter, but being a father and a husband is simply unfulfilling for him in every way. He misses Sherlock, who spends a lot of time away from him because he can’t stand seeing John with his family, and he literally cannot stand being around Mary. As a result of all this frustration and bottled up emotion, John considers cheating on Mary with the first woman to show any interest in him and accepts her phone number, sending her a text. Notice how Mary and Rosie aren’t enough to make him throw away the phone number. That night, though, he receives a text from Sherlock (it’s quite obvious from the facts that the two texting know each other well, that they haven’t seen each other for a long time and that Sherlock texts “Miss you”, paralleling “Miss me?” from TAB) and decides then and there that he isn’t going to start an affair.

This cheating bit seems to worry a lot of people, but it really, really shouldn’t. First of all, it shows that John is human too and a fully fleshed out character with complex problems. Second of all, can it get much more Johnlock than this? John is so miserable with Mary that he’s willing to start an affair with a random woman he randomly meets in a bus. The image of his own wife and child on his phone isn’t enough to make him forget about it, but one text from Sherlock on his phone is enough for him to break it off before it even starts (on the grounds that he is “not free” and not on the grounds that he is “married”, indicating that he’s thinking of Sherlock here, not Mary). Moftiss could not make it any clearer that the one John loves is Sherlock, not Mary. I mean, think about it. He is willing to cheat on his wife and the mother of his child, but he is unwilling to “cheat” on Sherlock, whom he isn’t even in a relationship with. Seriously. That’s the show. Right there, that’s actually what we saw last night.

It also means that when John sees the woman from the bus while on the plane, he is not fantasizing, he’s feeling guilty. Remember that he’s on this plane with both Mary and Sherlock. And it means that what John is trying to tell Mary in the later parts of the episode is that he isn’t actually a good husband because he has always been in love with Sherlock, not because he considered cheating on Mary for, like, one day.

Then comes the actual case and I’m just going to put this out there: Moriarty is alive. He has been closely monitoring everything, waiting for the right moment to start the final act of his grand plan to burn the heart out of Sherlock and make him into the perfect boyfriend. This is all Moriarty’s doing and this is how he has been planning to burn the heart out of Sherlock all along.

We already know that Moriarty’s main sphere of influence is Eastern Europe and we already know that Moriarty has control over people in the British government. We are also told that AGRA worked/works for whomever pays the most money. So is it really so difficult to believe that Moriarty was the one arranging the hostage situation? That Moriarty was the one ordering Lady Smallwood to send in AGRA? That Moriarty was the one ordering/inspiring/helping Norbury to give it all up? That Moriarty was the one ordering his Georgian helpers to capture Ajay and deliberately let him believe that Mary had betrayed him? Is it really so difficult to believe that Moriarty would willfully create a situation in which he had an assassin running from her past on hand to send into John’s life, but also another assassin on hand to kill her whenever he desired and without it being possible to trace it all back to him? The answer is no. No, it really isn’t difficult to believe that.

So let me propose the following: Moriarty has created a situation in which both Mary and Ajay are his pawns, Mary knowingly and Ajay unknowingly. Mary knows that her mission is to separate Sherlock and John and make John distance himself from Sherlock forever. We can see throughout the episode (and the entire last season) that she is working on this. She’s deliberately planting the idea in John’s mind that the one Sherlock really loves and cares about and needs to be his partner both romantically and when solving crimes is her and not John. And Sherlock, who’s desperate to ensure that John gets the life he seems to want, is playing right into her hand by trying to mend the relationship between them for John’s sake.

Additionally, I think Mary knows the end game. So I think she knows that she’s meant to “sacrifice” herself for Sherlock in the end, meaning that she will die a martyr and thus forever be between John and Sherlock, and she accepts this mission.

At some point, Moriarty decides that it’s time for the last stage of his grand plan and he orders his Georgian helpers to let Ajay go. I mean, the timing of this is way too purposeful for it to be a coincidence. As predicted, Sherlock is willing to give his all to protect Mary/John’s family. And as predicted, Mary doesn’t give two fucks about him and goes off on her own. Mary has now entered the final phase of her mission, showering John with heartwarming letters, praise and loving admiration. She’s never, ever done this before. She knows the game is almost up and she has to ensure that she plays her part convincingly. If she really meant any of this, she would always have acted like this. But she hasn’t.

It turns out that Mary was the one to give Sherlock the clue he needs to solve the case. Surprise. Not.

Then Mary dies just as she was supposed to do. You can even see her glancing up at Sherlock during the conversation and moving closer/more in front of him when she goes to “attack” Norbury and is called back. She knows, guys. She knows what’ll happen. It’s not chance, it’s chess. Also, she doesn’t really hold back her hatred for Sherlock unless John happens to be around, so her legitimately sacrificing herself for Sherlock and thus redeeming herself makes no sense character-wise. Like… she would totally be happy to get rid of her rival without having to do any of it herself if she wanted to be with John, I’m telling you.

Finally, Mary makes the most manipulative death speech committed to television yet. It can basically be summed up as 1) John, you are the most amazing human being ever, I’m so happy we met, never change, I love you forever AKA massive guilt trip, 2) Sherlock, I really do care about you, do you care about me as well AKA planting even more suspicion in John’s mind and 3) Sherlock, it’s alright you didn’t save me, I think we’re even now AKA massive blame game. Also, no. Willfully shooting someone fatally so only a miracle saved them and being ready to take a bullet to save someone but then being prevented from doing so by that someone jumping in front of you to take it themselves is not the fricking same thing, Mary! It doesn’t make Sherlock guilty of your death as you were guilty of his almost-death. Stop manipulating them. Stop.

While this conclusion, that Mary has not in fact redeemed herself but only carried out Moriarty’s orders in order to separate John and Sherlock, is mostly based on logic, there’s also indirect evidence quite visible in the episode itself. In the first plane scene, Mary is sat in the seat closest to the aisle, there’s an empty seat in the middle and a man sitting by the window. In the second plane scene, Mary is sat closest to the aisle, there’s an empty seat in the middle and John is sitting by the window. These two scenes are completely parallels. In the first plane scene, Mary is annoying the hell out of the man and he very obviously just wants for her to leave him alone, an exact parallel to how Mary and John’s relationship is portrayed throughout the entire series, but especially in this episode. Then, Mary fakes feeling ill in order to gain sympathy and it works brilliantly. So we can assume she’s doing the same to John at the end.

For the record, it can also suggest that Mary is faking her death, which could also help explain why she would be willing to go through with it. This means she might return later to finally be revealed as the villain that she is so John and Sherlock can move on with their lives together with absolutely 0 problems, just like how Irene was safe in the end so she didn’t weigh on Sherlock’s mind.

The result is exactly what Moriarty has planned all along. John is devastated. Not because he loved her. He doesn’t cry or go to visit his therapist, which we saw him do after Sherlock’s “death”. Instead, he growls despairingly. This is because he isn’t feeling grief at her death. He’s feeling guilt. Guilt that he wasn’t a good husband for her, or a good father for Rosie for that matter. Guilt that he couldn’t go through with this life but always kept wanting Sherlock instead. Guilt that things didn’t work out the way they should have. This moment brings up all the guilt that has always been in John for loving Sherlock and for not being able to commit to an “ordinary” life as a devoted husband, loving father and professional doctor. That is why he takes it out on Sherlock. He knows deep down that it’s not Sherlock’s fault that Mary died, that it’s not Sherlock’s fault that John loves him more than he ever could possibly love Mary. He feels it’s all his fault because he loves Sherlock and he can’t deal with that. So he snaps. Consider what the situation must look like from John’s perspective. He chose Mary even after Sherlock came back because he felt that that would be safer for him. But he couldn’t do what was expected of him. He couldn’t make Mary happy, he couldn’t stop loving someone else, he couldn’t be invested in their shared life. He might not have actually cheated on her, but she never had his heart and now she’s sacrificed herself to save the one John truly loves. And to top it all off, it seems as if John cannot even be with Sherlock now because Sherlock always loved Mary and not him. So Mary’s sacrifice has all been for nothing. No wonder he’s suffocated by guilt. No wonder he lashes out at Sherlock for indirectly, albeit unwillingly, causing this by being so perfect that John couldn’t help but love him. No wonder his immediate reaction is to withdraw from Sherlock, to declare that he no longer wants Sherlock in his life. When John accuses Sherlock of making a vow he couldn’t keep, who do you really think he’s talking about here? By God, this is painful.

It also works the other way. The heart is now being burned out of Sherlock. Moriarty has successfully carried out his master plan. So I think it’s very reasonable to assume that Moriarty will come back in TLD to try to claim his big prize. I also think it’s very reasonable to assume that the estrangement between John and Sherlock will culminate in TLD. It’ll be horrible. But it also means that everything is ready for The Final Problem. It means that everything is now positioned so the big moment, where Moriarty is defeated and Sherlock and John can finally finally be happy together simultaneously, is just around the corner. Have faith. We’re all going to die watching TLD, but it’ll be okay, because Sherlock and John will end up together in another city, far away from Death.

[ineedtofeelbetter]

I strongly encourage you to ignore this.

Since probably 2012 whenever I'm going through a bad depressive phase (typically caused by fucking up in a huge way [i.e. losing my job, accidentally wrecking friendships irrevocably], triggering endless waves of self loathing to the point of being suicidal), my way of coping usually involves burying myself in Johnlock.

It was an accident the first time.

It was after series 2 came out and the first hiatus hell began. I remember watching TRF the first time and screaming "They're boyfriends! They're boyfriends!" at my tv. I mean, I shipped them after the first series. But it was after TRF that it seemed so obvious to me. I watched those 6 episodes so many times.

I knew about slash already, but wasn't into it. I had stumbled across some Firefly Mal/Simon slash not too long before that and it just made me laugh. Not because it was gay, of course not. But it was so against character and both of these people had other love interests on the show, ones that played into their behavior and choices. It so happens they were heterosexual. But I believed them. Say what you will about Mal & Inara (cause Mal's behavior toward her, although in-character & kind of believable for the type of man he was, was problematic AF), Simon and Kaylee were SO into each other and seeing them finally get together at the end of Serenity was honestly one of the best parts of the film.

So after watching series 1 and 2 of Sherlock over and over again during the first hiatus hell, I craved new stories. And I desperately craved stories exploring their relationship. It seemed so clear to me in the show but I NEVER thought Moftiss were going to go there. I felt like I would of course never see these characters get together on screen, so I might as well seek out some good fanfic. I knew it'd be out there, of course I wasn't the only one to have seen their obvious love for each other. And boy howdy did I find it.

I can't remember what the first one I read was called or the author's name but it actually was too slow for me and was unfinished. The best part that I remember though was that Moriarty wad a former lover of Sherlock's and would seduce him with puzzles (what actually sounded like Nutshell Murders), but then he'd get Sherlock high to have sex with him. I just thought that was a brilliant choice and made Moriarty more evil, and in a real world way.

The first fic I ever fell in love with though, and the one that would help me through an incredibly dark time in my life, was The Heart In The Whole by Verity Burns. It ended up being the perfect mix for me. It was predominantly fluff with just a bit of smut. And it felt relatively realistic for the characters, especially John. I could picture Martin in some of the scenes and that is what seals the deal for me. I read it so many times. I eventually even found an audio recording of it and downloaded it and listened to it all the time. I still do sometimes. It was my primary source of comfort during this time.

I still don't know why I found it comforting though. I wasn't involved in the fandom at all, I hadn't tapped into into the fandom on Tumblr at all. I'm still not really. I follow a lot of blogs and reblog a fuckton here, but I don't contribute, I don't engage with anyone. I do think that fic though was the reason I found the fandom here. I'd been on Tumblr since 2008 but only followed some Sherlock/Johnlock heavy blogs during the first hiatus. Series 3 came and went, TAB happened. I didn't love either of them as much as series 1 and 2 until I went online and read meta and discussion. And that's how I eventually found Rebekah's TJLC Explained series.

I do disagree with some of the points made throughout, but it did make me believe that we might actually see a romance, we might see these iconic characters come out and get to be together. I watched those videos over and over again and this is when meta/analysis became more enjoyable than the show itself.

I think it was the hope that made me happy. I believed and it made me happy. 2016 was a year filled with sadness for a lot of people for a lot of reasons, big and small. But I thought surely Moftiss would want to help us see hope in 2017. It was a tiny thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but would have made a world of difference to a lot of people.

We all know how 2017 got started and how sorely disappointed we all were. It drove people out of the fandom, more seriously it drove some people to question their actual sanity.

I read all the tin-hatting, I tried to hang on to that hope. But to be honest, it died inside me. I think I still hold on to the tiniest little ember, as faint and unlikely as it may be (I have a theory about October 28th, but I'm 99% sure it's wrong), but for all intents & purposes it's dead.

With every new horror 2017 has to reveal, I miss the old comfort of Johnlock. The knowing it was never going to be real, but being satisfied with the wishful thinking. Before questioned sanity and gaslighting from showrunners and fans being talked down to and blocked on social media. I'm not placing any blame on the fandom whatsoever, btw. I made a choice to believe and still stand by the blatant evidence on the show. I blame the show runners and the BBC. But I do miss the innocence we used to have.

The entire point of my writing this fucking rambly ass shit is as follows:

I lost my job about a week and a half ago and have fallen into a massive depression of the likes I described above. I haven't been sleeping or eating and have been seriously considering suicide again and have tried to go back to the comfort I once found in Johnlock. Instead of listening to that old fic, I started rewatching the TJLC Explained videos. Unfortunately, what mostly stands out now is all the places we were wrong.

I desperately want to understand what happened with series 4 on so many levels and although I understand why they left the fandom, I desperately wish Rebekah would do more TJLC Explained videos analyzing these episodes.

That is all.

[missxlouve]

so as you can see from my icon I’ve been shipping Johnlock pre-e-e-e-e-ety hard since I’d been converted and I’m just about to watch the very last Sherlock episode and I am just so nervous.... I truly believe in this ship so if it doesn’t work out, I guess I really will go down with this ship.... either way, it’s been an incredible run..... these past episodes have been a total mindfuck though, oh my god I can’t believe how trippy this show has become ever since the 3rd series -- I can’t believe it started out as a simple little British detective show??!!

i

am

so

nervous

what will become of my ship??? lmao

UPDATE with spoilers obvs:

I’m definitely disappointed by this finale. I’m not really a fan of Euros because she seems incredibly unbelievable -  I liked her when she was just a complete psychopath conducting a lab experiment (it actually really made me think about how humans feel completely justified in conducting live animal experiments) but the end just seemed outrageously dramatic and sappy and unrealistic and idk. I prefer Moriarty because he’s just a brilliant, sadistic, entertaining psychopath. Nice and simple and entertaining. Euros is just like.... ugh. I wasn’t buying her backstory; I knew early on that the girl on the plane wasn’t real, but when I found out that it was actually Euros’ psyche, I was just like.... ugh. I just wasn’t buying it; it was frankly annoying and uninteresting and unrealistic and unbearably sappy. I’ve always been extremely picky when it comes to sappiness... and by the end of the episode I was just thinking to myself, DAMN what the hell has happened with this show?? Series 1-2 and 3-4 are COMPLETELY different shows. Not the same show at all. I think the ultimate goal of 3-4 was to add humanity to Sherlock, Mycroft, and other characters that people tend to think of as sociopathic or unfeeling or whatever, but I think the whole thing with Euros was just completely overdone. I feel like they really dropped the ball, because again, the two series-pairs are completely different shows: 1-2 was about traditional Sherlock Holmes case-solving antics, a pretty light show with a bit of subtext, and then 3-4′s focus was on Sherlock’s personal life + his growing emotional maturity. And I feel like in a way they achieved that goal because Sherlock has changed and grown a lot, but I also feel like it all would’ve been more effective, and quite frankly more interesting/meaningful and less disjointed - if they had Sherlock and Watson test out their relationship more. Even as platonic friends, they haven’t had much contact - there’s a rift between them that’s not been resolved and I really wish it had been. I wish that everything that came between them didn’t have to have ruined their relationship permanently - I feel like the writers took apart hteir relationship multiple times and then didn’t really put it back together in the end. Between the Fake Death, The Marriage, Mary’s death, John’s estrangement + Sherlock’s drug phase.... god I just wish they could’ve spent less time getting their relationship wrecked and more time slowly building it back together, ESPECIALLY since I truly believe that there has been heavy Johnlock implications throughout the series, *ESPECIALLY* the entirety of Series 3. And then, at the very end, they just slapped on an epilogue where they’re like “and then the two men lived happily ever after in their rebuilt flat solving cases and raising a child together as if they hadn’t had major relationship rifts and emotional upheavals and betrayals and trust issues and misunderstandings and seemingly unrequited gay feelings” and it’s just like.... they really dropped the ball because instead of SHOWING us how they repaired their relationship, they just TOLD us that they’ll get back to normal in the end. Frankly, that’s boring. Especially since they decided to re-haul the focus of the show in Series 3 to relationships. I feel like they should’ve done more - they re-hauled the show and they didn’t make it worth it. Series 3 was beautiful, but they ruined it with Series 4 because they didn’t go all the way; they didn’t pick up where they left off. I wish we could either have a true resolution to Series 3, or just go back to the original formula from the original series, because that was the show I fell in love with. The entirety of Series 4 - just kind of left a major “blah” taste in my mouth, which is really sad because as far as Series 1-3 goes, I was - and am very much still - in love with this show.

I heard that there might be a Series 5 and I just hope that whatever angle they take with it, they’ll go all the way with it. Either flesh out their relationship without dropping the ball, or just go back to the fun, intriguing, simple and fascinating show that was Sherlock Series 1-2.