#new holmes and watson unlocked

[krautundkimchi]

I vote to give the watch to Tae Sung and In Hyuk. Been a fan of Tae Sung's quick wit and ability to quickly read a situation for a bit now but In Hyuk actually is a lot saner than I first thought. He is also quite perceptive but I guess his intelligence and ability to reason gets overshadowed by Sun Jae's absolute loserism when it comes to Sol.

Let those two handle it. They will make some wise choices to break this circle. This way we have two people acting with the best interests of both leads.

Tae Sung and Baek In Hyuk will singlehandedly double-handedly and voluntarily, free of cost, for the sake of their own sanity, take care of the taxi driver, fate, coincidence, universe, open plot lines. I am sure they are open to more suggestions for the list!

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

Now my stomach hurts

Someone (I would like it to be me but I don't have the time right now) ought to write an essay on the recontextualising of the Adventures and Memoirs stories in light of the fact that they are written posthumously.

A Scandal in Bohemia, where Holmes insists Watson stay and see the case through, and that he is lost (lost!) without him

The Five Orange Pips, when Openshaw dies because Holmes let him go thinking he would live out the night and they could meet the next day

The Speckled Band, with Holmes confessing he's worried about putting Watson in danger and Watson being determined to stay

The Reigate Squires, with Holmes being ill on the Continent and Watson rushing to his side, then saving him from death

The Greek Interpreter and The Naval Treaty coming consecutively, offering rare glimpses into their lives outside of each other and the things they never mentioned

I could go on, but seriously - if anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, be my guest

[songbird786]

Sherlock and Watson <3

NEW OBSESSION UNLOCKED 🔓

in my Sherlock Holmes phase, artblock and stress hit me so I haven’t posted in some time, sorry ^^

commissions are still open however!

don’t use my art without crediting me please >.<

[renx01]

Out of Sight - Part 7

General idea: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader  & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 2886

AO3 link

You decide to not partake in any form of strenuous physical activity that Sunday, as you were still a bit sore from kickboxing the previous day. Instead, you decide to go on a walk and get breakfast at a local cafe. As you walk, you listen to some music and enjoy a London that’s quiet for once. It seems that most people are still asleep, but you eventually find a spot that’s open and serving fresh coffee and croissants. You walk in and get seated near a window by one of the workers. The worker looks to be in her early twenties and her brown hair has been tied up into a ponytail. After you order a cappuccino and a plain croissant she starts making it almost immediately. As a result, you only have to wait a couple of minutes before she brings you what you ordered. ‘Thank you.’ You smile at her before she walks away again. As she does so, you turn and reach into your coat pocket to grab a pocket sized edition of Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky you’d brought with you. You’d put a bookmark where you had left off, about halfway through the book, so you turn to that page and remove it before starting to read. You hold it in your left hand as you read while holding your cup of coffee in your right. 

Time passes slowly, but you don’t mind. It has been quite a while since you’ve actually been able to relax and read quietly while enjoying the simple things in life such as a cup of coffee. The last time you actually did anything remotely relaxing that wasn’t related to exercise was the time you were in Tokyo for a day as a result of a flight having been cancelled in the early morning. It was quite a nice surprise, as you had been on the road for several months and hadn’t had much of a break from work. Jim had tasked you with quite an important job, mostly consisting of securing deals with or control over certain criminal networks in several countries in Asia. It had gone relatively smoothly, with only one network proving to be difficult; still, it had been a long trip. In spite of it all, you’d decided to go get some souvenirs for Jim and Sebastian before leaving the country. They’d liked them, despite them being quite silly. London is different though, and while Tokyo is amazing in its own right, it does not have the same vibe. There’s a certain charm to the mist and smoke of the city that you enjoy. That it’s where Sebastian and Jim stay most of the time doesn’t hurt its status as favourite either. 

After about an hour of sitting and reading you get up, pay, and leave the cafe. Rather than returning home you decide to wander around, taking random lefts and rights and now following a particular path. Eventually, you walk into one of the parks. Unlike earlier, there’s quite a few people walking around, mostly with their dogs. It’s nice to see them so happy. It distracts you from the boring hours you’ve been spending at Scotland Yard. While you don’t mind it too much, it’s a lot less exciting than the work you usually do. Rather than following people and killing them, or speaking with powerful criminals and forge deals, you’re now stuck behind a desk, working for people that don’t seem to really know what they’re doing.  A buzz in your pocket pulls you out of your musings. You feel inside your pockets and fish out the correct one of the two you have with you. It’s the phone you use to communicate with Sherlock, Mycroft, Scotland Yard, and basically everyone else that knows you as Charlie. As you’re unlocking it, it buzzes again. Carefully, you read the two texts displayed on your screen. The first one is from Greg, asking you to come to Scotland Yard as soon as possible without stating why. The second is from Mycroft, asking to meet him tonight at 7, with, again, no reason as to why. 

A huff escapes you. ‘So much for a day off.’ You mumble to yourself as you get your headphones out of your other pocket, put them in, and start walking. Mere moments after you’d set off to leave the park another buzz interrupts you, this time from your other phone. You grab it but continue walking. “The game is on. -JM” is all the text states, but you know that the boring hours spent at Scotland Yard were over as you hear an explosion in the distance.

——

Upon your arrival at Scotland Yard you are greeted by the sight of Sherlock grabbing a ziplock bag from Greg and John telling him to be more considerate. You approach them silently, greeting Greg and John with a nod before looking over Sherlock’s shoulder to see what he’s holding.

It’s a pink phone, similar to the one you’d seen pictures of from a victim that was murdered in the case that John had named “A Study in Pink”. As you look more closely, you see that the phone has an unopened message. Before you can say anything, Sherlock opens it revealing a picture of a pair of trainers in the middle of a room. The floorboards look quite similar to the ones in your Baker Street apartment, though they look to be slightly damp. It’s likely they’re in a basement or attic. You turn back to Greg and John, letting Sherlock reveal what you’d seen mere moments later. ‘It's a picture of a pair of shoes, trainers specifically.’ He turns the phone to face the two men. ‘Quite an old style, we’ll have to discern from when exactly once we pick them up. We have to stop this bomber.’ Greg shoots Sherlock a confused look. ‘Once we pick them up? From where?’

Sherlock had basically dragged everyone out of Scotland Yard to go to Baker Street. It wasn’t entirely surprising to you that Jim had planted them here, yet you had not expected them underneath a latch which led to the basement. Mrs Hudson told you, once you’d found the shoes, that she hadn’t used that basement for over a decade, so she was as surprised as everyone else. Just as Sherlock started deducing the room, he was interrupted by the pink phone ringing. Sherlock picks it up immediately and puts on speaker so everyone in the room can hear. 

‘HH- Hello sexy.’ A woman’s voice comes through the speaker. ‘Who is this?�� Sherlock asks before she can really continue. ‘I’ve sent…’ it was quite obvious that the woman was crying, ‘you… a little… puzzle.’ The fear in her voice is palpable and John and Greg look distressed. Sherlock, on the other hand, looks to be as cool as a cucumber. ‘Who’s talking? Why are you crying?’ A moment passes as the sniffs become louder for a moment. ‘I’m not crying. I’m typing…’ another pause, ‘and this stupid bitch is reading it out.’ Sherlock mumbles something about a curtain rising and John asks him what he meant. You’re situated a bit further from them as you don’t want to interrupt or interfere with Jim’s plans. ‘You have twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock, or I’m going to be so naughty.’  You took several pictures with one of the cameras you’d snagged from work before putting the shoes in a large ziplock and handing it to Sherlock. You weren’t surprised about the dramatics. Besides, Jim just wants Sherlock to show off his skill set. You decided to join the consulting detective and his personal blogger to Saint Barts Hospital, where you would be using the equipment to analyse the shoes. Of course, Sherlock and John hailed a cab to get there before you could even suggest taking the tube. Greg offered to drop you off and you decided to take him up on that offer, especially with him being your superior at Scotland Yard and this being work related.

‘Do you think Sherlock will solve the case?’ You ask Lestrade as he’s driving. ‘Yeah, I trust that he’s able to do it. He kind of has to, with the threat of another bomb going off in the middle of London.’ When you’d gotten back to Baker Street earlier with Sherlock, you’d noticed that the building that used to be across from 221 had basically vanished after an explosion. That had been the first one, and if Sherlock didn’t solve the puzzles set out by Jim you were certain that this “naughty” thing he was planning would be another explosion. ‘You put quite a lot of trust into him.’ You pause and turn slightly so you can see his face when you continue speaking. ‘Hopefully he won’t disappoint then.’ Greg’s eyes turn to look at you briefly. ‘He won’t. I’m sure of it.’ Your face remains neutral as you turn back to face the road ahead of you and he does the same.  The rest of the ride was spent chatting about everything and nothing, trying to distract yourselves from what is going on in the world. Greg did not join you in going inside St. Barts, opting to go back to Scotland Yard, stating that he had to arrange so there would be a team ready to get the woman out of wherever she was. You told him you would keep in touch before shutting the car door behind you and swiftly entering the large building.

After asking around for a bit, you are pointed to where you have to be. As you enter the lab, you’re greeted by the view of John trying to get Sherlock’s phone out of Sherlock’s own pocket as the detective sits behind a microscope. ‘Careful.’ The brunette says as John seems to be struggling. When he finally manages he reads the message on the screen. ‘It’s from your brother.’ 

‘Delete it.’ 

‘Delete it?’

‘The missile plans are out of the country now, nothing we can do about it.’ John sighs at the detective’s comments. ‘Well Mycroft thinks there is. He texted you eight times. Must be important.’ You try to get a better look at Sherlock’s facial expressions, but he’s obscured by the microscope. ‘Then why didn’t he cancel his dental appointment?’ ‘His what?’ John only looks more confused than before. ‘Mycroft never texts if he can talk.’ Sherlock seems to become only more agitated. ‘Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains, end of story. The only mystery in this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?’

You cough and gain their attention. ‘Ah! You’re finally here Charlie.’ You nod and approach and hand the SD card to Sherlock. ‘Hi Charlie, good to see you’re here too. Sherlock, what I’m saying is that we have to try and remember that there’s a woman that might die.’ The detective only huffs and John looks frustrated. ‘What for? This hospital is full of people dying, doctor. Why don’t you cry by their bedsides and see what good it does them?’  Luckily, a beep from one of the machines interrupts their conversation. You walk over to it and tell them that the search is complete. As you turn, a woman you don’t know personally but have read about in Sherlock’s file walks in. ‘Any Luck?’ she asks. ‘Oh yes! Charlie, what does the machine say?’ You read it out to them and Sherlock nods understandingly. As you’re about to introduce yourself to Molly, you’re interrupted once again. ‘Oh sorry!’ The door opens again. ‘I didn’t know…’ ‘Jim, hi! Come in. Come in.’ Everyone’s eyes turn to the man entering and yours widen ever so slightly. 

It’s Jim. The Jim you know as a criminal mastermind; dressed as an average, regular guy. ‘Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.’ Molly’s blushing and you’re convinced that Jim has been pursuing her romantically for some time. ‘Oh!’ He’s very excited about all this. ‘And uhm…’ ‘John Watson, hi’ The doctor says reluctantly. You’re pretty sure she hasn’t spotted you yet, as you’re a few metres away from where the others are standing. ‘Hi! So you’re Sherlock Holmes! Molly’s told me all about you. Are you on one of your cases?’ His voice is so positively cheery it almost scares you. ‘Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.’ She looks positively radiant about it all. Sherlock continues to work, but as Jim shuffles past he mumbles something, ‘Gay.’ ‘I’m sorry what?’ Molly sounds confused. ‘Nothing.’ The detective mumbles again. Jim finally manages to shuffle past the detective and “accidentally” bumps into you and knocks a metal dish onto the floor. ‘Oh, sorry.’ Your eyes lock but yours remain as unemotional as they are usually. His, on the other hand, look to be full of glee. He’s enjoying himself thoroughly. You raise an eyebrow before he bends down, picking up the dish and slipping a note into his hand below the dish. ‘Sorry, sorry!’ John shoots a death glare. ‘Well, I’d better be off. I’ll see you at the Fox, about six-ish?’ Molly looks flustered. ‘Yeah.’ she says as she blushes again. ‘Bye… it was nice to meet you.’ It remains silent until John awkwardly says ‘You too.’ followed by a silent mumble in the same vein by you just before the door slams shut behind the short man.

‘What do you mean gay? We’re together.’ Molly says sternly. ‘And domestic bliss must suit you Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you.’ ‘Two and a half.’ ‘Three.’

‘It’s unnecessary to comment on her weight, Sherlock.’ Your voice is just loud enough for them to hear. ‘You’ve rediscovered your voice Charlie, how kind for you to join us once again.’ The detective shoots you a pointed look from behind his microscope. ‘I’m not good with people.’ ‘But you are, everyone at Scotland Yard seems to like you.’ You huff. ‘That’s work related, it’s different.’ John supports you, ‘Sherlock, as long as you act within the bounds of what they deem normal you’re fine. Shyness is a lot more easily accepted than how you tend to act around people.’ Molly agrees with the man before continuing to talk about Jim. You conclude that she must be infatuated with him, or at least somewhat. ‘He’s not gay, Sherlock. Why do you have to spoil… he’s not!’ You try to remain neutral and not react to everything the brunette says about your boss. ‘With that level of personal grooming?’ John jumps in again. ‘Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.’ ‘You wash your hair, there’s a difference.’ You sigh quietly and turn to look at one of the computers that shows the data about the shoes. Jim hadn’t kept you inside the loop in terms of what cases he would give Sherlock to solve. You understand, though, the detective is good at deduction and the less you know, the less there is to give away your real identity and your affiliation to Jim. ‘No no… tinted eyelashes… clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired clubber’s eyes… then his underwear.’ ‘His underwear?’ Molly and John echo. ‘Visible above the waistline. Very visible.’ You’d noticed too. Jim certainly did all this intentionally. While he’s always well-groomed, he usually prefers to dress in a suit, not in some shirt and trousers that show off his underwear. ‘That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under the dish here.’ That’s what the note was for. Certainly quite bold, but then again, he doesn’t care much for relationships if they don’t benefit him. The use he had for Molly has now passed with him actually meeting the detective in the flesh. ‘I’d say you’d better break it off now and save yourself the pain.’ The woman storms out. ‘Charming.’ You mutter into your coffee that you’d just picked up from one of the desks. ‘Well done.’ John says. ‘Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?’ You almost choke at the comment as you were mid-sip. ‘Kinder? No, no. Sherlock. That wasn’t kind.’ 

The two of them continue bickering as if you aren’t there. You wish you could be more talkative, have more input, but for now, you decide to not interfere too much. Your persona will have to slowly warm up to them and eventually speak more confidently. Silently, you walk to the coffee machine that’s in the common area for the laboratories. As you’re waiting for your cup to be filled with a new brew, Molly walks in looking like she’s been crying. ‘Sorry about Sherlock. Are you alright?’ You ask her and you put a hand on your shoulder. ‘It’s fine,’ she sniffs and wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat, ‘you can’t help it. He’s just like that sometimes.’ You motion for her to sit down in one of the chairs nearby. ‘Tea?’ You ask her as you move to grab a clean cup from one of the cupboards. She nods and you turn on the kettle.

_________

Taglist: @h-malacus @thegirlwhosimpstoomuch @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek

Note: Hello! Happy belated new year everyone! Sorry for not updating for so long!! University really had me exhausted 90% of the time so I didn't have much energy to write. Hopefully it'll be better this year!

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts

Today's prompt is: calm.

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 7)

Summary: Rosie is brought to school in a police car, and it has nothing to do with her parents. What's more troubling is her attitude about the events afterwards...

Seven Years Old

Being brought to school in a police car by a uniformed police officer got me some unwanted attention, but there was nothing for it. (I say unwanted…)

Everybody thought it had everything to do with Papa’s detective work. A mistake easily made, but no, it had absolutely nothing to do with either parent, uncle or the DI at New Scotland Yard.

Dad and Papa were away for a few days, and Molly and I made a girl’s weekend out of it. We went to Madame Tussaud’s, Daunt Books, and St, James’s Park. Molly painted my nails, we applied hideous looking face masks and covered our eyes with slices of cucumber, watched the Narnia films, ate popcorn, ice cream, chocolate, pizza and Molly’s homemade scones.

When Monday arrived, I was eager to get to school and tell my friends all about the wonderful time I’d had. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth after breakfast when I heard Molly cry out and then a man’s voice spoke. Not a voice I was familiar with, and his speech was slurred. A commotion ensued.

“Stay calm. Focus. Deep breaths. You can do this, Watson.”

It was Papa’s voice, urging me into action with a calm tone, and I knew what to do. He and Dad had trained me for this if an emergency should occur.

Molly had a landline in her bedroom, so I called 999. The woman answering was very understanding when I told her, in as few words possible, that a man had forced his way into my godmother’s house, could she please send a car over asap.

We were in luck, because a car with two officers was patrolling the area. The doorbell rang a minute later. 

“The door is open. Come…”

Molly’s voice went suddenly muffled. The man was probably holding a hand over her mouth.

Bite him, Molly, I thought, but then the police entered, and chaos followed next.

***

It turned out that the man breaking an entering, was drunk, hence the slurred speech. He lived one street down, and evidently thought he was locking himself into his own house. Molly had left the door unlocked after she’d brought out the bins. We were after all about to depart minutes later. So, when this man saw Molly in “his” house, he thought she was a burglar.

Molly was a bit shaken, but the man had been too drunk to have the strength to harm her. Another car was called, and Miriam, one of the police officers, offered to drive me to school, lest I’d be late. (Actually, it was me who asked her.) The reason she acquiesced had probably everything to do with my heroic effort, and resourcefulness in saving the day.

I told Miriam all about Papa and that I knew Greg Lestrade. Miriam didn’t know them, but she’d obviously heard of the great Sherlock Holmes. I think she was a bit amazed that I was his daughter.

So, this is why I was delivered at school in a police car, just in time for my first class of the day. Our teacher was supposed to read us a story, but everyone, her included, was bursting with curiosity about this morning’s events. Now that I knew a bit more about the West End, as I was a part of the school’s theatre group, I gestured and dramatized as best I could, which seemed to have the desired effect.

***

That evening, Dad told me about what had happened after Miriam had driven me to school. Two minutes later, uncle Myc arrived, had a stern talk with Molly about locking her doors when his precious niece was in her care, and when Molly returned from work, a top-notch alarm system had been installed.

Also available on AO3

[monocordum]

Holmes' PARTNER and CONFIDANT gets shot and feels Holmes' WIRY ARMS round him, sees the depth of Holmes' LOYALTY and LOVE, his DIMMED eyes, his SHAKING lips; he catches a glimpse of a GREAT HEART, and has a REVELATION that is the climax of years of HUMBLE but SINGLE-MINDED SERVICE and that is WORTH MANY WOUNDS.

Watson: #whump #h/c #new kink unlocked where do I sign?

Holmes: touch Watson again and I'LL KILL YOU ALL

(From The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, January 1925 issue of The Strand)

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

The Hazards of Living with Remy Holmes

Ao3

Summary: In general, Logan found living with Remy to be manageable, if occasionally annoying and/or nonsensical. Logan would appreciate, however, if their sibling could stop breaking into their apartment while Logan was there. Content: Sherlock Holmes AU; bickering, deductions, listen this is mostly logan and virgil verbally sparring while everyone flexes their low-level deduction muscles Pairings: Logan & Remy (future QPR), Remy & Virgil (siblings), Logan & Virgil (forced to put up with each other because of Remy) Notes: Hello TS fandom of 2024. How's it been

~

“Remy? Remy, have you seen my jacket?” Logan called out in his still fairly new apartment, halfway down the hall between his room and the apartment’s main sitting area as he spoke. His still fairly new roommate had been out the past few hours, but Logan had heard the door open while he had been shuffling through his closet for the fourth time that day. Normally, Logan would simply assume he had left his jacket at work- a not terribly uncommon occurrence, especially when he worked later shifts- but living with Remy came with a unique set of risk factors Logan had to keep a constant eye on. Case in point: “I swear, if you’ve got it wrapped around another ham-”

Reaching the end of the hallway, Logan cut himself off as he realized who was actually in the sitting area, frowning. “Ah. Virgil. I apologize, I didn’t realize we had been broken into.”

Virgil, sitting in one of the apartment’s armchairs like he belonged there, just smirked at Logan’s dry tone. “Not breaking in if I have a key, doc.”

“It is if we didn’t give you that key.” Logan countered, wrinkling his nose at the nickname. “And please, call me Dr. Watson. I’d hate for us to get friendly.”

Virgil chuckled. “Still holding a grudge, are we?”

“You kidnapped me, threatened me, and accused me of having homicidal intentions. I believe I have the right to a grudge.”

“Shouldn’t that be water under the bridge by now? I said sorry, didn’t I?”

“It’s been two months.” Logan reminded, crossing his arms. “And no, you haven’t.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Virgil said, sounding about as apologetic as Logan had when he had greeted the intruder. “Better now?”

“Apology not accepted.” Logan answered flatly. “Might I ask why you have decided to darken my apartment?”

“Is visiting my sibling not a good enough reason for me to want to stop by?”

“Not dressed like that it isn’t.” Logan nodded at Virgil’s outfit, a well-fitted suit that would put the MIB’s to shame. Virgil did, occasionally, drop by just for the sake of a visit, but he arrived informally in those instances, imitating the mundane lives of civilians by doing things such as ‘wearing hoodies’ and ‘knocking on the door.’

Virgil glanced down at himself, as if he might have forgotten what he arrived. He tugged on his dark purple tie, the only hint of colour he allowed his formal wear, straightening it incrementally before looking back up at Logan. “You caught me. I have a case for Remy of… some governmental importance. Nothing dire, but important enough we want to ensure it’s handled properly.”

“You have a case for us, then.” Logan corrected, the statement petty, entirely for the sake of drawing a reaction. Logan was dragged alongside Remy to every case the unofficial detective worked, whether he liked it or not, and Virgil knew that perfectly well. It made no meaningful difference to Logan whether or not Virgil acknowledged that, but, as established, he was still holding a grudge over their first meeting. “That’s what you meant to say, correct?”

The annoyance that entered Virgil’s expression was slight, but Logan considered it a major success on his part.

Before Virgil could choose his response, the doorknob of the front door began to jiggle slightly, shaken by the motion of someone inserting their key. Both him and Logan turned to watch as the door was unlocked and pushed open as Remy entered, taking a moment to fully remove their key before closing the door behind them.

“I’m back, babes!” Remy greeted the apartment automatically as they dropped their keychain onto the shelf mounted above the sitting room’s lightswitch, flashing Logan a smile when they realized he was right in front of them. Their motions remained fairly routine up until they spotted Virgil, looking surprised by his presence but not as upset as Logan had been (and was). “Well this is unexpected.”

“I know I didn’t mention I’d be dropping in-”

Remy waved Virgil off before he could finish his sentence. “No, not that. I’d be more surprised if you gave me a heads up before swinging by, to be honest. I just can’t believe you and Lo managed to occupy the same room, alone, without killing each other.”

“As if your doctor could kill me.”

“The restraint I have showcased so far is not insubstantial.”

Logan and Virgil shot twin glares at each other as their replies overlapped, Remy laughing at the show. “Alright, girls, you’re both pretty. No need to start a fight now.”

“I would hardly-” Logan trailed off as he looked back towards Remy, paying more attention to the details of his appearance at the second glance than he had the first (more occupied then with the relief Remy’s company would provide). Specifically, he was paying more attention to the dark blue leather that was draped over them. “...Is that my jacket?”

Between their sunglasses and generally relaxed attitude, it wasn’t always the easiest thing to follow Remy’s thoughts, but Logan was still able to catch the quick twitch of their face. “Ah… is it? Could’ve sworn it was one of mine.”

In the peripheral of his vision, Logan watched Virgil raise an eyebrow. “It’s a size too big for you, Rem.”

Remy raised the hand holding their coffee cup in mock surrender. “Ok, you caught me. I was in a rush this morning, I wasn’t thinking and grabbed the first jacket I saw. Not my fault you left yours in the kitchen, hun.”

Logan sighed, though the sound wasn’t as annoyed as it probably should have been. Really, in the grand scheme of living-with-Remy things, his jacket getting accidentally commandeered was relatively harmless. “How far your brilliant deductive reasoning skills get you.”

Remy grinned at the (admittedly) heatless jab. From where he was still relegated to the corner of Logan’s vision, Virgil frowned, expression twisting into a more severe version of the one Remy wore when they were working out a particularly complicated puzzle.

Thankfully, he chose not to comment on whatever observation he had pulled out of thin air, instead clearing his throat to call back the room’s attention. “Yeah, speaking up your skills-”

“Let me guess: you’ve got a case for us.” Remy finished for him, missing the smug look Logan shot Virgil as they took a sip of their coffee. “Alright then, lay it on me. Since I know you won’t leave me alone ��til it’s handled.”

“And this is the part where I step out.” Logan said before Virgil could begin, not in the mood to go through their usual song and dance of Virgil telling Remy the bare minimum of case-related information while making it very clear that Logan was the one with the lowest level of ‘need-to-know’ clearance. He moved across the sitting area, passing Remy to slip on the shoes he kept by the door. “You didn’t get the mail from Patton as you came up, did you?”

“I didn’t, no.”

“Then I shall use that as my excuse. I’m sure he’ll be happy to entertain me for at least five minutes.” Logan grabbed his keys from the shelf, aware he didn’t truly need them but wanting to have them nonetheless, and pulled open the door. “Remy, I trust you’ll fill me in on what I miss.”

“Yeah, of course, babes- but, wait a sec.” Logan paused in the doorway, turning his body around to face Remy once more. “You sure Pat’s going to be there? Today’s when he usually has his baking class.”

To the outside onlooker, Remy’s comment would have been perceived as nothing more than an innocent, and reasonable, observation. Patton’s baking classes were held twice weekly, Patton went to them consistently, and Logan had no direct reason to believe Patton would have skipped that day’s class for no reason.

Logan, however, was not the outside onlooker, and over the tops of Remy’s sunglasses, he could see the way their eyes glinted with a completely different question, one Logan was happy to answer.

“I’m certain he will be. His class was cancelled.”

“Oh yeah?” Remy prompted, grinning as he set Logan up. To the side, Virgil shifted in his seat, likely having picked up on the fact that Remy was building the conversation up to something. “How’d you know that?”

The corner of his mouth tipping up into a self-satisfied smile, Logan turned towards Virgil. “Because Virgil styled his hair.” He answered simply, taking a moment to appreciate as Virgil’s expression morphed from suspicion into outrage before he breezed out the door, shutting it behind him. The last thing he heard was Remy, laughing like the two of them had just told the funniest joke in the world.

Yes, living with Remy came with a unique set of challenges. But Logan found that, for Remy, he could be adaptable.

[justacanofcorn]

quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Eight: currere

Chapter Seven

Anora met Watson and Holmes. Anora confronts Moran. run.

It was three weeks to Christmas. Whatever Professor James Moriarty was working towards with his shadowy organization was coming further to fruition, it would seem. The fall semester was almost over and Anora’s schedule did not include Moriarty’s next level class, because she had been elevated to two classes ahead. What this meant for her as his employee, she wasn’t sure. What it meant for them as two people, no one could say. 

Anora was given her first task of copying a ledger. It was fairly unexciting work apart from its location: a munitions warehouse. With each new job and each branching of the operation, Moriarty's career in crime grew more confused and more intriguing in Anora's eyes. Strangely, as far as she could tell, she didn't much mind working for a criminal. It helped that she kept herself from the core of it, and Moriarty seemed intent on doing the same. Theft, espionage, trespassing- these were minor, and immediately harmless. But something about weaponry unlocked a new door of discovery, one Anora had no business or desire to walk through. But still, curiosity was hard to sate.

It was snowing the night Anora first met the doctor and the detective. Snow meant it was hard to cover tracks so Anora knew she had to be quick lest she risk leading someone right to her. Thankfully, it was so close to the holiday and dead at night that everyone had gone home days ago, and even employees who occasionally popped their heads in had no business there that evening. All Anora had to do was get inside.

All the doors were padlocked, deadbolted, shut up entirely. But on the observation floor there were tall windows. The warehouse sat on the waterfront downstream of the Thames and was surrounded on either side by boat houses and storage. An adjoining space to the warehouse had a roof that sloped in the direction of one of these smaller structures. In her coat, gloves and hat, Anora stepped on crates and drainage pipes and whatever else she could gain footing on to reach the roof. From there, it was a short jump into the sloped roof of the warehouse, though she had to be mindful of her landing unless she wanted to slide back down. Thankfully, her new boots had the traction for the job and she managed to press herself to one of the upper windows. It rotated vertically, almost like a waterwheel, and was tall enough to allow Anora to duck through and let herself inside. 

This was the perfect entrance because the manager’s office was down the hall. Anora retrieved her lockpicks from her coat pocket and worked at the office door. Her ears strained for the lock at her fingertips, so she froze when she heard a distinct noise from downstairs. A clatter, some cursing, and footsteps onto the factory floor.

“Eventually, the law of averages would suggest that one of those outlandish inventions will blow your hands off,” one of the voices said. Anora worked faster at her task.

“If it weren't capable of relieving me of my extremities, then how could we possibly expect it to blow out locks?”

So whatever this ‘invention’ was, it aided them in breaking inside from the ground floor. The lock to the office made a distinct ‘click’, though Anora hoped not too distinct, and she let herself inside, deftly closing the door behind her.

She checked the drawers of the wide desk first to no avail. Looking under the desk revealed a safe, and Anora groaned. Safes were nowhere near as easy as door locks and since she didn't know what the company downstairs were there for, she had no idea how much time she had to do this.

It took her too long. Once she had it opened and she was copying with charcoal and paper, she felt it. The footsteps made their way up the stairs. Anora carefully folded the copies paper and tucked it into her coat, then closed the safe. She meant to rise from under the desk but then someone was opening the door, so she made herself small and stayed exactly where she was.

“Do you even know what you're looking for?”

“A paper trail. Something that draws a connection between Meinhard and Moriarty.”

Anora perked up and barely missed bumping the top of her head against the desk. These people knew her professor? More importantly, they knew he had ties to the munitions business?

Whatever the reason for their being there was, she didn't intend to find out. She needed to leave as soon as possible and do so without incident. But the footsteps were growing closer to the desk and Anora realized that she had effectively trapped herself. So, she waited. Waited until a pair of legs appeared behind the desk and she kicked out the desk chair. The person tripped, falling forward, and Anora launched herself from the floor.

The man she had knocked over was smartly dressed with a clean mustache. Guilt hit her a little when she noticed his cane discarded in the ground but she didn't have time for petty sympathies. She turned to prepare herself for the second party. A man with a rather dark, rugged appearance squared himself away. He looked at her curiously though, as if he was trying to estimate her threat level.

“I doubt you're a night custodian,” he quipped. By the sound of his voice, he was the one who had defended the invention downstairs.

“I could say the same for you two,” Anora replied. Behind her, the other man pushed himself off the ground. “Sorry about the leg,” she said over her shoulder.

“What is it you're poking around for?” The dark haired man asked her. He began towards the desk, so Anora began towards the door. They did this slowly, like in a dance.

“It seems I took a wrong turn. I was looking for a different factory. One look at the underside of the desk and I realized my mistake.”

“How specifically inconvenient.”

“Convenient, actually, because now I can leave you two gentlemen to your work.”

But something in this man's eyes told her she wasn't getting away so easily. The other man, the one with the cane, finally stood the rest of the way and leaned against the desk. Anora spared him a glance, then down at the desk where the safe rested on the other side of the wood.

The rugged man saw this and came for her. Anora's work with Moran activated within her like a switch and she stepped back, dodged his grapple and tried at him with an elbow strike, which he effectively blocked. He gave her a quick jab to the ribs and though it shot her with pain she still managed another elbow attack. He drew away and walked between her and the door. 

The injured man was so quiet that she had forgotten he was there, and Anora was taken fully by surprise when a cane came around her front and trapped her against the injured man. Quickly, the rugged man retrieved the desk chair and procured rope from, well, she wasn't quite sure where, and like routine clockwork, the two had sat her down and tied her hands behind the chair. She looked up at them.

“Well, have at it,” she joked dryly. “All the paper and pencils and bullets your hearts desire. Don't let me stop you.”

The rugged man scrutinized her, taking his time, not in a way unlike she'd seen and felt Moriarty do.

“You don't work for Meinhard, that much is clear. He's rather loyal to the motherland so any of his hired hands will be German, meaning that you're on the other side. What is Moriarty doing with someone like you in his pocket?”

He seemed to ask it out of genuine curiosity, but his eyes searched her. Searched her for an answer to a question she didn't know, but he very clearly did.

She could lie, say that she had no idea who this Moriarty fellow was, but she got the sense that would get her nowhere.

“Why don't you do what you came here for. I'll just sit here and stay out of your way.”

“No, something's off,” the other man said. “Holmes, we ought to go and come back with Lestrade-”

“No, they'll be furious about the door. Better to do this now. You,” he addressed Anora. “... Don't move.”

Anora waved her hand what little she could to signal obligation. The two men went to work digging around the office.

“You're not German either, so you don't work with Meinhard. You don't work for Moriarty, either. Who's the secret third party?”

Neither of the men halted their search, but the smartly dressed one spoke.

“The only other party there ever is: the law.”

“Don't be too humble, Watson. They don't like us very much either.”

Anora ‘tutted’. “Holmes…Watson… You being so casual with your name does not make me particularly comfortable about my future.”

“The worst you'll get from us is a stern talking to and that comes from him,” the one called Holmes jerkes his thumb over his shoulder. Watson looked incredulous. 

“Now who's being modest? You've put people in comas!”

“Never on purpose.”

Ah, so they bickered. Anora tested the binds. Only tying her hands meant they did not take her seriously. She decided not to be too offended; it only made her job easier.

“How many times have the two of you been arrested?” She inquired, and while they bickered away at that, she loosened her binds enough to slip a hand through. Then she undid the knot. They seemingly hadn't considered that she held a copy of the ledger in her breast pocket- that, or they didn't care. They could have been there for an entirely different purpose. Either way, Anora had people waiting on her, and she needed to go.

The two men had finally occupied themselves with the safe and Anora knew an exit they did not. So, she bolted from the chair, through the door, and she was out the window by the time they noticed she was gone. Adrenaline shot through her veins as Anora barely stepped from one roof to the next and rolled out upon landing on the ground. Climbing trees in the summer had done her much good, it seemed.

If the two men watched her leave she didn't know it. She sprinted, paused so she didn't pass out from an asthma attack, then continued on. She did this until she was back at Moriarty's house.

Anora was panting when she entered Moriarty's study, where the professor was stood by a fireplace and Moran sat in one of the armchairs. She wordlessly handed the folded paper to Moriarty.

“What took so long?” Moran asked, not as a jab, but as a genuine inquiry.

“Got held up.” Anora held up her wrists to show the red where the rope had bit into her skin. “Met two, rather domestic individuals. Holmes and Watson.” Anora gauged their guarded but still obvious reactions to the names. “Ah, so you do know them. Thought they sounded familiar.”

Anora dropped into the chair opposite Moran and sighed. “I've never ran so far and fast in my life.”

“Yes, and you probably shouldn't,” Moriarty added, mostly to himself, as he read the pages Anora had collected.

“Not dead yet,” Anora joked, then looked to Moran who rolled his eyes. 

“Please be serious,” he said.

“Well, you never take me seriously when I am.”

“Quiet,” Moriarty cut in, his voice sharp. The two employees obeyed immediately. He refolded the paper and sighed. “Friends, it would appear we're going to Paris.”

-

Anora, Holmes, and Watson stand at the front of the police station. They had been in talks with Inspector Lestrade about Jefferson and whether to talk to Moran. He's two days from being released, so a decision needs to be made.

They settle on Moran first. After all, what's the worst he can say?

To start, he only wants her. No one else in the room.

Anora agrees, because what's the worst he can do?

Of course he's handcuffed but that doesn't put Anora much at ease. Moran is a man who radiates danger. He gives her a smug smirk as she sits opposite him.

“Finally. I was wondering when the curiosity would get to you.”

“It's not curiosity, it's service.”

Moran barks out a laugh. “Service? Don't kid yourself, Anora, it's not a good look. You're no more good than me. They're using you, just as he did, and when they're done with you they'll toss you, just as he did.”

And so it begins: the emotional warfare. 

“Mikhail is dead,” she says.

“Not quite. I've been talking with Jefferson and he says Mikhail was pulled from the fire with burns on about twenty-five percent of his body. But he's alive. Not here, of course. Hospital.”

Anora didn't hide her disappointment.

“You thought you were rid of him, eh? Russians are harder to kill than that.”

“Can't do much from the hospital, can he?”

“Don't act stupid.”

Anora steels herself. “Fine. Be that way. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“What do you know so far?”

“Nothing that you don't already know yourself. We decoded a letter and learned about the cyanide. Shame to blow up that beautiful building.”

“They didn't decode anything- you did. What else?”

“There are multiple batches of the poison, though I'm not sure where. I also can't figure out where James is sending letters from, or if it would matter. He's probably moving around.”

“He's not. Can I get a cigarette?”

Anora sits up straight. “What do you mean he's not?”

“A cigarette, please!” He calls to those on the other side of the wall.

“You can have a cigarette as soon as you tell me what you mean.”

“Can I say it plainer? He's not moving. Why would he when he wants to be found?”

“Why would he want to be found?”

“The detective has made himself known, and now you know that Moriarty's alive. There's no use in running.”

“But if he's alive then he's finishing his work. Why risk interrupting that?”

“A few reasons. Chief among them to finish the job with the detective. Or maybe he will move around. I can't very well know from in here.”

“You know what I think? I think you don't know what you're talking about.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“Where is he?”

“I'm not going to tell you. It would insult your intelligence and I know how touchy you are about that. Give it a modicum of thought.”

Anora huffs. “Anything else?”

“Does it feel impossible? The weight of it?”

“No,” she lies. He knows.

“Did you switch sides to spite him?”

“No. I hate him and he needs to be stopped.”

“And? Who's going to stop you?”

“Whoever is left at the end of it all.”

Anora stands and goes for the door.

“If you see him before I do,” Moran begins. Anora turns back. “Give him a kiss for me.”

It's one of the strongest moments of Anora's life. She wants to throttle him but she doesn't, only walks through the door to the hall. She sighs deeply.

“You handled that well,” Holmes comments.

“It was that or violence. I'm better than him. Alright, let's talk to Jefferson.”

For Jefferson, it was both Anora and Holmes in the room. 

“Well. She moves on fast,” Jefferson says upon their entrance. Anora sighs. She's almost used to the quips.

“You lackeys never were very original.”

“You ought to be nicer to me, seeing as how you need me.”

“Well, you're in here for terrorism,” Holmes says. “Meaning it would be wise for you to cooperate.”

“So if we play well together, I'll get something out of it? Is that what you're saying?”

“Moran said Moriarty isn't moving around. Is that true?” Anora changes the subject. 

“I remember you being smarter.”

“Alright, that's enough of that,” Holmes says. “Help us and you may get out early. Maybe not. Maybe Moriarty is moving around. Maybe he isn't. What is he planning, and what is he waiting for?”

Jefferson looks between them.

“It's strange, the one thing you're not accounting for.”

“Which is?”

“You went to the Wren's Nest. Do you remember what comes next?”

Anora stares him down and thinks.

Next. 

“There's an order. And I know what the order is.”

Jefferson smiles. “There she is.”

Anora's eyes widen in realization. “He's-”

Anora flees from the room. She doesn't want to say it in front of Jefferson in case she's wrong, in case she's right and he somehow can warn James. Holmes follows her. 

“What? Where is he?”

Anora turns to him, breathless.

“Paris.”

[nowiamcoveredinyou]

Clandestine meetings (part 2)

Part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Sherlock x (married) oc!

England had been fascinating to Devi, yet scary. New but bizarre. All her life she stayed in her house, until she was married off to Debashish. 

Even after her marriage she remained at her in-laws most of the time. Though after she moved to London with Debashish, she always thanked him for bringing her here. 

She was delighted by the English ways, English people, and English food. She was still learning; learning of all the freedom she was getting here that was impossible in India. 

She didn’t know much about currencies yet, but enough to take out some money and pay it to the driver. She got down from the carriage as she arrived at her place, being careful with her pallu.

 “Mr Holmes” she muttered, her only hope to save her husband.

The chattering and busy London reminded her of Kolkata, except the British here were not cruel, unlike the ones in her country - torturing her men and those colleagues of Debashish. 

The carriage disappeared into the mist, leaving Devi upset in front of her house. The place she enjoyed with her husband. How could she stay a minute there without him? Will Mr Holmes ever write to her about taking the case? 

Mr Holmes, Mr Sherlock Holmes, thought Devi. That posh British detective. She couldn't help but recall his tall figure, his accent and voice, and his arrogance too. She walked a few steps closer to her house, took out her keys and unlocked the door. The inside was dark, not dissimilar to her inner state without her husband in this unknown place. “Mr Holmes,'' she muttered again and went inside.

As she got in and lit up a lamp, the flash of it brought Holmes' face back. She smiled to herself, her house so dark but Holmes' face brought a bit of light like the lamp she lit. She put aside the curtains letting more lights in, smiling to herself at Holmes' aloofness. He was pretty handsome. Not that Debashish was not but… somehow Mr Sherlock Holmes captured Devi's mind. Doctor Watson was rather humble, she admitted, yet there was something about the detective that she couldn't deny but got completely trapped in. 

Delighting herself with his thoughts she went to the mirror and that's when her smile faded away. 

That red Sindoor on her forehead reminded her of her marriage. She cursed herself, cursed herself for allowing another man's thoughts to reign her mind. Debashish, her Debashish, to whom she got married when she was 16. 

Four years of togetherness - though not always smooth, not always understood, not always heard - should have made her completely devouted.

Even their families said, “Devi and Debashish? Even their names are in for this union”. 

She was married. No matter how much Britain fascinates her, she was married to a respectable man, and came from a respectable family herself. 

Debashish's reputation was at stake, no time to allow sinful thoughts. 

She immediately looked straight into the mirror, deciding she'd do anything to save her husband.

She walked towards the kitchen, getting herself focused on his thoughts. She should make him some food, she thought, so that he could eat when he came back. 

Taking the vegetables out she only could wonder what might be going over him. 

*

“Are you sure about this, Holmes?” asked Watson as he watched his companion put on a deerstalker. Hair back brushed as usual, his expensive Inverness black coat and that golden string of pocket watch dangling from his coat button. He turned around to answer Watson. 

“Quite so. The lady is quite perceptive, Watson. To reject her case could be the gravest mistake of my career as a detective.” Saying so he recalled Devi, the desparation in her face when she came to meet her. She was so young and fighting for her husband alone. Sherlock couldn't deny but he found her strength quite endearing, also a woman confidently flaunting her traditional clothes and culture in a different country without getting intimidated by the natives. She… he stopped himself and shook off her thoughts away. It's just her case he's interested in, not her, he presumed.

“Where shall we go first? I do not believe The Daily Telegraph would give us all the information right away.” Watson's voice brought Sherlock back into the reality. He sighed as his dear companion made a valid point about the case. 

“Certainly not, my dear Watson. That is why I am inviting myself to dinner at Mrs Dey’s place. Meanwhile, I need you to go to The Daily Telegraph office and ask for as much information as you can from the manager. I have wired him just now. He should receive my message so that he does not create any obstacle with your investigation.” He said and stared at Watson for his reaction. he knew what he was doing, he was confident about his methods and ways of reaching the deepest point of any case that's submitted to him.

Watson knitted his eyebrows as he enquired , “Why are you going to Mrs Dey’s place? I thought we were in this together!” 

Holmes walked over to the door of the flat, opening the door he turned around to answer Watson before heading out, “You will see, old fellow,” said he with the utmost beautiful smile gracing his pensive and expressive face with confidence. He then shut the door behind him with a long and thin arm and went downstairs. 

Watson sighed and got out of the house after a few minutes. He climbed down the stairs with his shoulders hanging low. He hated being left behind like this with a few minutes notice. At least he knew what he was doing, for he had to follow Holmes’ instructions.

Watson stretched out his arm to hail a cab. A few passed by, so he sighed again. One cabbie was kind enough to slow down his carriage by commanding his horses to stop where they were. Watson got in, gave the directions to the driver and sat back. 

It was going to be a long day.

*

Devi was setting down the dinner plates to arrange the table with hundreds of thoughts clouding her mind, even those sinful ones, yet mostly her husband’s thoughts made her worry. She was startled back to the reality with a loud knock on her door. She stood for a few seconds, it took her time to get back to her surrounding and once she did, she put the plates down and went over to answer the door. She thought it was Debashish in the beginning, however, as his wife she knows Debashish hardly knocks the door like that. She knows everything about him, which facial expression to tell he's stressed, which tone to tell he's angry, which stare to tell he's joyous, everything, only if he could knew Devi like that. Only if someone noticed Devi in this detailed way. 

Her heart started to beat faster as she opened the door, she almost forgot to breathe and eventually her guest had the first impression of her at her house is she coughing, 

“Are you okay Mrs Dey?” Asked Holmes as he stood there staring at her with baffled eyes. Devi realised she made a full of herself infront of Holmes, she gathered herself, her heart, her breath and finally cleared her throat to speak, 

“Ahem. Mr Holmes! What brings you here?”

“There were some questions I forgot to ask you in the afternoon,” he replied, already coming in not even finding it necessary to ask her permission, which made Devi step aside to make room for him to enter her flat.

Mr Holmes took off his deerstalker and ran his hands over his frock coat briefly. He walked around the sitting room that made Devi stare at his tall figure, examine him from head to toe with an amazed look, until she really saw his feet, her expression changed into frustration. As Holmes was about let himself sit on an armchair, Devi came a few steps closer with her significantly little feet compared to Holmes' and forbid him saying, 

“Shoes off, please.”

Mr Holmes turned around to look at her with a confused look on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

“I just need you to take your shoes off,” she firmly replied. She was tired of having to explain the tradition everyone followed back in India, so she gave up on elaborating. Her husband's friends were always unwelcomed in her mind to her house just for this reason, but physically they were since it was what Debashish wished. 

Mr Holmes did not seem to mind though. He just nodded and went to the door to take off his shoes. He could see that Devi takes care of her traditions with all her heart so he went to the doorway and took his shoes of and made his way to the arm chair. Stealing a glance at Devi standing there crossing her arms over her chest and staring at him with her big dark eyes. 

There was another knock. As the door wasn't locked after Holmes entered so the one who knocked, seeing the door is open entered saying, “Devi, why's this door-” Devi's husband entered and ceased speaking as he saw Holmes sitting in his armchair and his wife standing a little far from him, he went furious instantly, even baffled to see his wife with some white British man alone in their sitting room.

“Who is this man?” Debashish spat. “What is a gora doing at my place, Devi?” Debashish turned to look at Mr Holmes, anger was evident from all that was going with him and more now to find one of those who are trying to prove him fraud. “What are you doing here? I’ll throw you out of my house!”

“Debashish, that is enough!” Devi went straight to him and put her hand on his chest, preventing him from going near to Holmes. She doesn't ever raise her voice to debashish, she's not allowed, but deep down she knows how much anger she has harboured for all these years, hence this is the first time she lashed out on him for insulting Holmes. It made Debashish stare at her, brows knitted, unable to believe little Devi showing anger. He took her by wrist furiously, forbidding her to stop touching him.

“You do not get to decide what is enough and what isn’t! This is my house.”

Devi furrowed her brow and gaped at her husband, for all this time she stayed silent , for they were in India and she was under her father and then under her husband, her mother and aunts and in laws taught her to never disobey the men of her family. However she's in England, she's smart enough to understand debashish doesn't have much support here, “Don’t forget whose country this is!” she snapped back, Holmes stood up and stared at them, mostly at Devi. He heard how Indian women were dominated by men, but this woman right here, is ready to fight, ready to take no shit from her husband, she's ready to learn.

“If these whites can treat my brothers back at home as dirt, so can I!” He calmly said to Devi, almost throwing her hand away. He turned to put his briefcase down and went to get a telegram card. Devi stood there looking down at the floor, fuming, not daring to look into Holmes' eye. Debashish turned swiftly to Holmes and pointed a finger at him saying, “Young boy, I’ll wire the police if you do not tell me who you are at this instant!”

“I am not a young boy, I'm sure we're quite same aged, and that would be hardly necessary, Mr Dey,” said Mr Holmes in his deep, velvety voice as he stood by the chair. God, that voice. Devi could not help but stare at him fondly. Probably for the first time someone raised their voice not at her, but for her. 

Mr Holmes walked to him and stretched out an arm, holding it out to Debashish. “Sherlock Holmes.”

The name made Debashish demeanour calm down a bit. “So, you are the private detective that this city keeps worshipping?” Debashish reluctantly shook hands with Mr Holmes. He would have preferred to fold hands in a greeting. However staying in London for two years now has made him comfortable with shaking hands.

“I’m a consulting detective.” Holmes corrected Debashish.

“Meaning?” he was rather baffled, not for once he's heard of consulting detective in his life, but private detective? Many.

“I am not here to have you interrogate me with your imbecilic questions, Mr Dey. My work is crucial. I am the one who does the questioning here, and I would rather you answer me as straightforwardly as possible.” Holmes spoke sternly.

“He’s only here to help,” Devi chimed in, not daring to touch him again.

“I can reject your case whenever I want, and you shall be left here, crying for injustice, strapped for cash, and whatnot. Not even your wife would be here for your constant moaning. You should be more grateful.” Holmes' calm voice echoed through their quiet flat. Debashish wasn't quite pleased with what he was, he objected, 

“I am not here to -”he stopped as Devi finally interrupted these two men.

“Can we please talk about the rest of it over dinner? The food is getting cold, it's takes alot to cook meals, would you two men please have some respect for my cooking?” said Devi keeping her hands on her hips in a childish manner as the two men stared at her blinking and then finally Debashish and Mr Holmes nodded in unison. “I believe we can,” said Holmes and the men walked over to the kitchen to sit down at the table, as Devi served meals to both of them in a few seconds. 

She then sat down to eat with them at the table as she began to listen with bated breath and wide eyes, like that of a child, house hold at India never delighted her, in her words it felt like being captive, but in London with such freedom she got her childlike nature back.

“When did you come to London?” asked Holmes after taking a bite.

“two years ago. we got married four years ago.” answered Debashish looking down at his plate.

“Why?” questioned Holmes, munching the rather spicy food of an Indian household. Devi saw his discomfort at his face and asked,

“Want water Mr Holmes?” 

Holmes nodded and let her hand him a glass of water.

“There were no job opportunities in India. Your people offered me an incredibly large sum. Now, you see, I’m a middle-class man, Mr Holmes.” He trailed off and looked at Devi, giving her a smile as she returned him an even wider one “who just wants the best for himself and his beautiful wife -” 

“How long have you been working in The Daily Telegraph?” Holmes interrupted the romanticism with his next question.

“almost two years. I had been enjoying my work during my first year. It was my duty to provide for my family, although breadwinning is not easy. Good that Devi gets to stay at home, doing nothing,” Debashish replied and looked at Devi with a wide, ugly grin, the joy of bringing her down yet again. He knows Devi's interest and talents but never let her be anything but a beautiful house wife. Devi loved him the moment she saw him at their marriage now that she's a bit grown she wonders if she ever actually loved him.

“You would have been dead long ago had she been doing nothing,” said Holmes. Holmes could even see the hard work she puts everyday to become better, to cook better to keep the house clean and he could deduce she wants more. Debashish opened his mouth to retort but Holmes cut him off again shaking his head, tired of his stupid ego. “Moving on. I heard that you have been accused of corruption in your office. Anything you wish to say in your defence?”

“Mr Holmes, believe me when I say I never even take a penny that isn’t my own. I can swear to you on Devi for that!” at this Devi stopped staring at Holmes and stared at her husband with knitted brows. She's sure that her husband can have a big ego but never he would steal. He'd beg before he steals, but why swearing on her? 

“Better you leave your wife out of this and get to the heart of the issue.” Holmes replied immediately. Devi again started munching her meal staring at the detective.

“I was taught to be an honest man, and I’ll be an honest man until the day I’m cremated. I was completing my paperwork - the usual calculation of how much money I was going to have to ask my manager for, so that we could print enough copies of the newspaper for this entire city comfortably.” Explained Debashish.

“We got enough funds by the next month, and everyone got back to work with better spirits than before because of more money. Turns out nobody needed this many newspapers in the town. I was the one in charge, and I am the only one who is not white at the office. So they have all turned on me”.

“Though I must confess, I did not expect my estimated amount to be that bad. Today, they gave me a suspension letter. Now I am going to have to stay at this dreadful place for God knows how long!”

“I should not have taken everything out on you when I got back from work. Apologies, Mr Holmes.” he apologized shaking his head and sighing. 

Mr Holmes waved it off. “You did not expect your estimate to be this bad, you say?”

“Never, sir. I am a well-educated man, with an expertise in mathematics. I never could have made such a mistake. Perhaps my luck was so bad, it made my brain foggy when I wrote out the estimate and expenditure. Look where I am, now!”

“Ah, that is curious. Awfully curious, Mr Dey.” he took his final bite of the spicy food burnt his tongue yet for the sake of the case he ate as long as it was needed to know the facts.

“Does that mean you have taken the case now?” asked Devi with a bit of excitement in her voice. Holmes stated at her sparkling eyes and mischievous smile with a little curve on his lips too. He gave her an amused chuckle. “Why, of course!”

Devi giggled in Joy now that he's taken her case until Debashis eyed her to behave.

Holmes got up from the kitchen table and made his way to the living room, towards the door of their flat. 

“Are you already full?” Devi asked in surprise, there was plenty left for him. But perhaps his spice tolerance isn't so much.

“I have got more important things to attend to, I’m afraid.” said Holmes grabbing his deerstalker, wore his shoes and headed towards the door. Devi left her plate and Debashish at the kitchen and followed him almost running. Debashish sat baffled, thinking about his state.

Devi walked out of the house briefly to see him off, “Mr Holmes!” she called holding the door, “Mr Holmes, see you” she said with the enthusiasm to see him again.

Holmes turned around to gaze at her, and at her wide smile. With a single nod he said, “Thank you, see you too.”

"Thank you for helping"

“You only have yourself to thank. You brought your husband’s problem to me. He would have been in serious trouble otherwise. You should go back in. Take care,” said Holmes, giving her a handsome smile he walked away. Devi stood a bit where she was, knowing his smile will linger in her mind until they meets again.

She kept standing there, gazing at Holmes until he hailed a cab to take off. What if she did not want to go back in and finish the awful dinner with her husband, of which she no longer even had the appetite for? What if she wanted to follow wherever Holmes went? Did anyone in this world care about what she wanted? Because all she wanted is to follow Holmes, his adventures, something more than this mundane marriage. Is he married? Doesn't seem so, is he in love with someone? This thought scared her. However her joy was greater than her fear. 

“Maybe he's not in love, I never heard of him with a woman” she muttered to herself. Devi sighed to herself as she went back into her flat, closed the door behind her, and joined her husband at the kitchen table again to finish off with her dinner.

[thefisherqueen]

Notes while watching Granada's Sherlock Holmes: The elegible bachelor. They made a full movie out of this short story, I'm curious to see how the material has been expended upon

The beginning of this story was tough to watch. Good of Granada to touch upon the subject of the treatment of mentally unwell people, though. May we one day react to people in obvious grief and distress with compassion and offering them what they need to recover, not by subduing/restraining them or locking them up, as today still happens too often

"You wild and beautiful thing" "Not half as wild and beautiful as you" oooh smooth dude. She really is very beautiful and looks stunning in that smart riding costume! New discovery about myself: I have much more of a weakness for women in smart victorian clothing than in the prettiest of dresses. New sexuality unlocked: victorian women while they're on the move + Jeremy Brett, but only for staring at (for an uncomfortable amount of time)

To expand upon my previous point: especially staring at Jeremy Brett sprawled on the sofa in just his nightdress, which is all open at the neck and chest. Sir what are you doing to me

Not too sure about Holmes' dream. Did they choose to depict this case as a post-Reichenbach one and is that why it's all about the waterfall? I'm always in favour when media shows trauma symptoms, and think it very realistic that Holmes would have reoccuring nightmares about waterfalls after that experience, but it's a bit overdone I think. Could have made more impact if it had been a little more subtle. Loved his charcoal drawings of the dream, though, and also the 'hyperventilating via pipe". Seems like a thing Holmes would do

The old gossiping aunts are hilarious

So much screaming and fighting, was that really necessary Grananda? Holmes walking around through dark alleys in a bad mental health state is very valid, but this feels a little like I'm watching Sweeny Todd... not the greatest of association for Sherlock Holmes

"Come and use your whore, my lord. You'll never have anyone who'll do what you want like me" ehm, madam? *uncomfortably close-up of her mouth* oooh, this bachelor's former sweetheart is actually trying to murder him for daring to marry another? Exciting

Mrs. Hudson waiting in the corridor for Holmes is adorable. "I don't really sleep these days" oh no I want to hug him so badly. Watson where are you? Your intimate friend needs you

This seems like a really draining episode for Jeremy Brett to play! I want to look up if he ever commented on it

Love that Mrs. Hudson contacts Watson to say that Holmes is not doing well. "You should have called me earlier" "I didn't dare disobey him" lots of hugs for mrs. Hudson too

The emotion in Jeremy Brett's voice and face as he explains the nightmare *cries with him* Also love that they added the anger and irritation and unhinged stuff about missing Moriarty from the book. Mental health problems are not all pretty tears

The scene out on the street in the rain is unhinged, I love it

Ok, halfway through the movie and the real investigations have began. I'm quite faceblind and having trouble keeping the different ladies involved apart, and the men as well, so this will be fun to try to keep up with

*deep, silky voice* "That any man should be worthy of such love..." are you trying in seduce her, Holmes? I don't think it's working. She just wants her bottle and her lord

I knew you could walk dramatically down a stairs, never have seen one walking dramatically up it before

"It could not happen today, we have the lunacy act, you can't just put people away" "It can if you are a handsome duke" This is an interesting piece of dialog. Not quite saying all that's wrong in mental health care, but this episode is already digging deeper than most media does, especially because it also depicts Holmes - the protaganist - as having mental health problems. That already paints a much more even and sympathetic picture. It's easy to imagine Holmes, if he lived in less privileged circumstances and showed less acceptable symptoms and wouldn't have people who cared about him close, ending up in an asylum. And Watson is a doctor - not necessarily safe for someone like Holmes. Where the critique falls down is the 'innocent woman locked up, is not mad', which doesn't adress the abuse of those who are locked up and are 'mad'

"I live only half a life. Nothing seems to break the gray circle I live in" I bet that Holmes can relate to that statement. And Jeremy Brett choose to show that by standing very close to her, even at one time shortly touching her hand, which Holmes never does with strangers. That was a beautiful acting choice

"I walk the streets at night. I'm looking for danger. Sometimes I'm asking the world to hurt me, so I can feel alive" It's a shame Holmes is immediately back in investigation mode after those moving lines. It's like Holmes' bad mental health episode is treated like a mere plot device, the nightmare containing actual clues. I generally like when dreams are used as foreshadowing, but I think it works better when it's more obscure, something like 'dream gives idea for solution' or 'dream sets mood for something happening later'. This is a bit too straightforward and, like the 'creeping man' episode, the occurance of straight up predictive/telepathic dreaming feels out of place. Wrong genre

*Holmes is distracted by laundry mid-conversation* hehe very ADHD of him

"I cannot expect you to understand how much I envy you. The delight it must be to face an opponent of some worth" Very appropriate thing to say to a depressed woman who lost her sister and got disfigured herself, Holmes

"Trust me" "Not an inch, my lord" Haha, probably sensable

Oh no, he killed another wife. Mistress. Whatever. Loved that Granada made him full evil

VERY brave of the american girl to confront her 'husband', but oh, so scared for her now *few minutes later* don't agonise him further silly girl! You're being very brave, but also very stupid! Come on, Holmes and Watson, hurry!

Nice shot Watson :)

Ah, there's the second wife, still alive! And she - oh. Interesting. Did not have 'became feral witch and took revenge on her husband in the prison he locked her up in by a trap she made herself' on my bingo card

The ending when she crawled out of her prison... that was very wholesome, actually. Love that she was allowed to become 'ugly' and still be a hero, that's rare for female characters. Hope she and her sister will live on happily together. They can at least share their trauma

And it ends with a performance... wait, so miss Miller did survive? Good! And Watson and Holmes are watching it with the sisters, I presume? Gosh I'm so bad at faces. Guess it must be

A wild and dark episode for sure, overall a very interesting watch. Just a shame about the prophetic dreaming, that was a bit out of place and unnecessary

[tcbefearless]

@deathtransformed sherlock & irene

The day had been dragging, whenever she came back to London it always seemed to drag. Perhaps it was because stealing jewels and other expensive and valuable items wasn't exactly the easiest thing these days (although Ms Adler had successfully attempted it). She sat in his arm chair, feet up happily just sipping the whiskey she had poured herself. Watson was out, she knew that much as was Mrs Hudson. The signature Parisian perfume lingered in the air, the usual scent that Irene wore. A perfume which could only be described as an ambery fragrance with a spirited and voluptuous scent.

She heard the door open and a small smile appeared across her features. "You know you should really lock your door" her New Jersey accent thick, of course the door had been locked but with quite a simple pick and pin she managed to unlock the door of the flat without very much hassle at all. The rain came down on the window with a soft pitter patter, the light beside her had been switched on as the darkness of the flat gloomed over. Blonde hair resting upon her shoulders, blue eyes upon Holmes. How long had it been since Bohemia? A year? Perhaps more.. at this point Irene had lost track of time.

"How's Doctor Watson?" John didn't exactly like Irene, although he had mused that she had made a proper idiot out of him at the time which he had found rather amusing. Adler had a few diamonds on her person, a beautiful necklace that glistened in the caramel hue of the lamp, and a few rings placed upon her fingers. Of course these were stolen items that Irene just simply took the pleasure of taking for herself. However, the ring where the once engagement and wedding ring sat, had a slight tan line which was rapidly fading yet the line still remained.. recently divorced.

The kettle that had been on suddenly went off with a small DING and Irene jumped to her feet, placing the whiskey down on the table heading in the direction of the kitchen in such a casual manner it was as if she'd been invited inside. "I thought you'd be home at this time, so I made you a cup of tea, I hope you don't mind?"

[skyriderwednesday]

I have actually been unable to get that Sherlock Holmes Solves Bible Mysteries book out of my head, so I looked it up

I just... what???

Embark on a journey through the Old and New Testament with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson as they explore exotic and spice-laden places in search of clues.

First of all, 'exotic and spice-laden' is always a terrible sign when used to describe the Middle East.

The detective and the doctor travel back in time with the help of a Moriarty-designed time machine to investigate ten Bible destinations, unlocking clues to ten Bible mysteries.

...why did Moriarty design a time machine, how did he manage to make it work, and why do Holmes and Watson have it now? Also I'm sorry, Mr Len Bailey, but Sherlock Holmes has exactly no interest in the bible and if he had a time machine that would not be where he'd be going.

The most fascinating crime cases are those that are already solved, those that have been investigated by the police and brought to a swift, satisfying, and almost inevitable conclusion.

That's... debatable...

So it is with Bible stories which the reader may consider familiar and unremarkable. But under close scrutiny these stories give up their hidden clues, their long kept secrets. Like a jewel newly polished, they sparkle and shine with a fresh, introspective light.

Sure, but do it as a theology text, not as Sherlock Holmes fanfic.

[thekittyfox2999]

Creature

!TW: Body horror!

I knocked on the door to my brothers and his writer's residence. I was expecting it to take a minute, but the door opened so suddenly that I almost wondered if it had been unlocked in the first place. But no. The face of the lovely little Mrs Hudson was peeking out at me. She seemed on edge, but calmed down at the sight of a familiar face. She looked distressed.

“Holmes. How surprising to see you. Do you need something dear?” She was always sweet and very unprofessional with titles, but, who would correct such a sweet lady? Certainly not me.

“I’m here to talk to my dear brother, I surely hoped you could decipher that.” I joked lightly, she looked down at the ground, still holding the door.

“I’m not sure you’ve heard about the news. Watson has gone, mental, I'm afraid. And Sherlock was involved.” I cocked my head to the side. She continued.

“I don’t think you’d like to see him right now. And, with the state they’re in, you’ll only upset the neighbours.”

I pushed the door lightly to see her better. She looked tired and her clothes looked distressed in small areas. She stepped back and let me in. Only after I stepped closer inside did she lock it in an instant.

“I don’t want the reporters here. And it’ll help dampen the noise if they wake up.” I walked carefully up the stairs with Hudson following behind.

I stopped at the door to the sitting room, waiting for her to tell me something, but she only sighed.

“I can’t stop you from going in there.” I looked back at her.

“I’d like to hear why I shouldn’t go in there, even if I am. The perspectives help.” Her eyes looked distant downstairs. She was probably thinking of breakfast.

“What I have seen has scarred me. I don’t want anyone else to see this…horror. It’s nothing I have ever seen before. I don’t know how Watson went down this path.” I nodded.

“The fact that Sherlock survived in the first place was a miracle. I hope Watson isn’t in any pain. I hope his mind is still there somewhere. It’s like losing two people in a night.”

I opened the door slowly. Mrs Hudson hid behind me.

The room was messy. Newspapers were thrown around. A teacup had been knocked down to the ground, broken into pieces. The thing I saw before me was no longer human.

I saw a hunched John looking down at a destroyed journal before he turned his neck up. His eyes were dark and distant. Like the eyes of a frightened animal. Then a crack was heard behind him. A torso turned to look at me. It was my brother. He looked scrawny and weaker than usual. His eyes were like slits of a snake. His gaze wasn’t anything you’d like to see.

Watson crouched down for the torso on his back to loom over him, my brother's arms dangling. Tears pricked at John's eyes as pain clearly surged through his body. The torso looked like a tree growing from his back. Clothes had been ripped around the sewn areas. They were clothed, but it was like looking at a mental patient's twisted version of twins. Like two plants, one growing out of the other.

I felt my face go pale as John whimpered and Sherlock only kept staring.

Hudson breathed heavily behind me. Clearly having closed her eyes.

John’s hands gripped the carpet, probably to ease his pain as Sherlocks hands grabbed at John’s back for stability as The thing finally rose on it’s back legs.

“Mycroft.” A “Holmes” echoing behind, in John's voice.

---

Okay, had another passing thought. had to make it into reality

[tiredgamergirl]

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s most famous creation has been public domain for years and many have used the famous detective as subjects for series, movies and games throughout the years, both with the stories created by the original writer and brand new adventures. The Ukrainian company Frogwares released their first Sherlock Holmes title back in 2002, called “The Mystery of the Mummy” (available for free on steam) and kept on perfecting their craft , refining the mechanics and having highly acclaimed writing in the adventure game community in their later titles.

Sherlock Holmes Chapter One, as the name implies, is both a prequel and a soft reboot of the series featuring a younger Sherlock, recently graduated from boarding school and back to his family’s home on the Mediterranean Island of Cordona to come with terms with his mother’s passing years prior. Upon arrival, it is implied that Violet Holmes didn’t die of tuberculosis as he originally believed and he decides to uncover the truth no matter the cost. Along with his imaginary friend Jon (yes, not John Watson) the entire city is a melting pot of political tensions waiting to happen, conspiracies lurking at every corner in an open world environment.

The game starts introducing the player to the mechanics in a closed environment with a simple mystery in a very focused narrative, perfect to have the player acquainted to the controls. A  bold narrative decision that might divide opinions also rear its head: the game invites to analyze the evidence and ultimately make your own decision on who is the killer and what will be the conclusion to the case. Will you allow the criminal to escape or will they be locked behind bars? Will justice be served? Was the truth reached? Some of the cases are open to the interpretation and can be hit or miss, including one in particular that Frogwares had to clarify who was the “canon” culprit. One could say that it may give the players agency in making their decision and shaping their own Sherlock, while some might want a more certain answer. For example, in one of the previous titles, Crimes and Punishment, it was possible to check if the verdict was the correct one from the casebook after the conclusion of the case.

Once the open world reveals itself it features a well-crafted city with five different zones, each featuring its own ambiance and citizens going about their own business; Sherlock is free to walk around the British aristocrats in Grand Saray, visit the sailors around the yacht club and the port, visit the more hard-working lower class citizens among the rocky Miner’s End or try his luck gathering information within the walls of the Old City, home of the Ottoman population. The opening screen warns about social and gender prejudices present in the era and the developer acknowledges it and instead of pretending it never existed they try to handle it as tactful as possible – wherever they hit the mark or not is up to the player’s interpretation.   Sometimes in order to get information about a case or enter certain locations Sherlock can disguise himself or play a eavesdrop mechanic to get new leads or even new cases, the city itself has many cases ready to be uncovered and solved by curious players. Some cases are unlocked after story progression so it is always worth coming back and wandering around to find something new and traversing is rather easy and without loading screens except for getting to new closed areas, like a house. However, the game severely lacks a mini-map and it may be a constant back and forth to the casebook menu, opening the map and checking where you are and how to get to your destination even if you have placed a marker. The game will give an address and it is up to the player to read the map and locate the streets and how to get there without the assistance of street signs. Thankfully there are plenty of fast travel points and handcrafted landmarks to assist the navigation but can be a little frustrating if playing one of the treasure hunting quests.

The casebook mechanic is also something that may be a hit or miss: in order to analyze certain leads it is necessary to “pin” it, and that sometimes involves having the right lead to interrogate suspects or find information. In one of the sidequests, despite having the right clue pinned and wearing the right outfit to gather information the game refused to spawn the right time of passerby that could give me the location to keep the investigation going. The casebook can be useful in having small icons above each clue to inform what kind of activity the player need to do and once it is exhausted there will be no more red icons surrounding it and it gets updated accordingly. Sometimes there is some more legwork needed so a trip to the police station, the newspaper or the city hall is necessary to peruse the archives and find the right documents or articles for the new locations or even the crime scene proper and it is all available on the casebook.

Once in a crime scene the observation mechanic showcases the developer’s experience and attention to detail, with Holmes allowed to examine many of the objects individually, turning and expressing his assessment about the clues presented and sometimes prompted to make chemical analysis within the casebook. Other times, upon pinning a track clue it is possible to follow the footsteps of a suspect and end up in another location and find other important evidences. The chemical analysis can be skipped, they can be a brain teaser for the math fans. After all the clues are gathered, Sherlock can interact with a white orb that will allow him to recreate the scene in his mind’s palace. Controlling Jon, the player is free to wander around in Holmes’ concentration mode and place the events where the evidence was found and if successful Sherlock will narrate what took place. Sometimes it is also necessary to access the Mind’s Palace to connect the clues so Sherlock will make deductions to provide new clues and proceed with the plot. Lavish visuals and intricate expression capture also enhances the experience of each investigation, the world feels lived-in and vibrant, restrained in realistic ways. The most out of place might be Jon that tends to appear -- justified as he is a imaginary friend.  

Like some of his traditional stories, combat is also necessary at points. The player is invited to try their hand in criminal dens but sometimes they also happen throughout the cases, in which it is possible to skip the whole process. It might be an anti-frustration feature as the combat is clunky, sluggish and very frustrating at times. The arenas often have strategic spots to shoot that might incapacitate the enemy for a brief moment of time or Sherlock can use his tobacco box to stun the opponent and subdue for a proper arrest or can downright kill the opponent. The decision is up to the player, the combat was clearly intended to be strategic but it isn’t nearly as satisfying. It might be because Sherlock is still young, but traditionally he knows boxing and a few other forms of unarmed self-defense and it is sorely missed in these situations.

This game provides an experience closely assembling the novels; a myriad of cases with varying degrees of satisfaction, some can be merely busywork like following the tracks of a donkey but sometimes they can provide some interesting brain-scratchers. Sherlock is still in his early point, not a consulting detective just yet and it reflects in his arrogance and impetuousness. Trying to step out of his older brother’s shadow, sometimes he allows himself to be overtaken by emotions that are not often seen in his later career. A lot of this title hinges on his emotional core and his relationship with Jon and the memories he uncovers at his home.

There are some DLCs for this title: Mycroft’s Pride adds a series of cases at the behest of his older brother, M for Mystery sets up the stage for Holmes’ greatest nemesis, Beyond a Joke also introduces one of his famous enemies and is a fun piece of story. The only two rather disappointing extra content is the “Saints and Sinners” quest that can be compared to the more ‘busywork’ cases in the base game; and the Victorian Starter pack’s Lead Zeppelin case, but the later comes with a hefty sum of the in-game currency that allows players to bypass the struggle of going to bandits’ lair to amass money needed for one of the quests.

This game is a must try for fans of the genre despite the interface being an hindrance most of the times and with the ability of skipping the combat, it is easy to get immersed in the narrative until the end. There are, however, a few trigger warnings that must be taken into consideration before playing.

Tʀɪɢɢᴇʀ Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢs

Gore (death bodies)

Prejudice (class, racial, religion, gender discrimination, sexual discrimination)

Slavery (former slaves)

Sexual violence (one of the cases the characters refuse to use the photo evidence due to its contents)

Self-harming (one of the suspects in the last case)

Drugs and alcohol

Suicide (DLC M for Mystery)

Violence against minors

Drowning

[starseedfxofficial]

Unlocking the Power of Market Profile for USDCHF Imagine navigating the USDCHF market like a seasoned trader who sees opportunities where others see confusion. That’s the magic of using Market Profile. While most traders are stuck squinting at candlestick charts, trying to decode the next move, you could be using an advanced technique that reveals the story behind every price movement. Let’s dive into the world of Market Profile and uncover how it can elevate your USDCHF trading game. Spoiler alert: this article is packed with little-known tips, a dash of humor, and proven strategies. Section 1: Why Most Traders Overlook Market Profile (And Why You Shouldn’t) Think of Market Profile as the Sherlock Holmes of trading tools. While others are busy chasing every pip like Watson, Market Profile analyzes volume and price to uncover the truth about market behavior. It’s like knowing the secret menu at your favorite coffee shop—a game-changer if you know how to use it. Here’s why traders avoid it: - It Looks Complex: At first glance, Market Profile charts resemble the aftermath of an overly ambitious Excel spreadsheet. - It’s Underrated: Many traders don’t even know it exists, focusing instead on more “mainstream” indicators like RSI and MACD. - Myth-Busting Insight: Contrary to popular belief, Market Profile isn’t about predicting the future. Instead, it’s about understanding the present—a critical skill for USDCHF traders. Pro Tip: Combine Market Profile with fundamental analysis to get an edge. For instance, when the Swiss National Bank makes an announcement, use Market Profile to interpret how the market digests the news. Section 2: The Anatomy of a Market Profile Chart for USDCHF If a Market Profile chart feels like hieroglyphics, let’s decode it together. Here’s what you’ll see: - Value Area (VA): This is where 70% of trading activity happens. Think of it as the market’s comfort zone. - Point of Control (POC): The price level with the highest trading activity. It’s like the popular table at a restaurant—everyone gravitates toward it. - Tails: These show extremes in market sentiment—either euphoric buying or panic selling. Example: Imagine USDCHF is trading at 0.9200. The POC might show heavy activity at 0.9180, signaling a strong support zone. If the price drifts too far above the Value Area, expect a potential mean reversion. Section 3: How to Use Market Profile for Strategic USDCHF Entries Step 1: Identify Key Levels Using Market Profile, mark the POC and Value Area High/Low. These are your battlegrounds. Step 2: Wait for a Setup Don’t jump the gun. For USDCHF, patience pays off. Wait for price to revisit these levels and watch for confirmation signals, like a pin bar or a break-and-retest pattern. Step 3: Trade Like a Ninja Set your entry slightly above/below the POC for higher probability. Use a tight stop-loss just outside the Value Area. Example: If USDCHF is at 0.9150 and the POC is at 0.9140, consider placing a long order at 0.9145 with a stop at 0.9125. Section 4: Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them Mistake 1: Ignoring News Events USDCHF is highly sensitive to economic data. Don’t let Market Profile blind you to fundamentals. Mistake 2: Overcomplicating Analysis Some traders add so many indicators they forget the simplicity of Market Profile. Stick to the essentials. Mistake 3: FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) Jumping into trades without confirmation is like buying shoes on sale—great until you realize they’re two sizes too small. Section 5: Advanced Strategies for USDCHF Using Market Profile 1. The Naked POC Play When the market opens, identify the previous day’s POC. If price revisits it, expect a strong reaction. For USDCHF, this works especially well during high-volume sessions like the London or New York overlap. 2. Trend Confirmation with Market Profile Combine Market Profile with a trend indicator like the 200 EMA. If the POC aligns with the EMA, you’ve got a high-confidence trade. 3. Volume Profile vs. Market Profile Use Volume Profile to complement your Market Profile analysis. For USDCHF, focus on sessions with major CHF or USD announcements. Conclusion: Master the Art of Market Profile for USDCHF Market Profile isn’t just a tool; it’s a mindset. By understanding the story behind the USDCHF market, you’ll make smarter, more informed trading decisions. Remember, every successful trader was once a beginner who decided to dig deeper—and that’s exactly what you’re doing now. So, go ahead, apply these ninja tactics, and take your trading to the next level. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article