#perfect description of watson

[darkartistyt]

"He is forever bounding up to Holes, expecting a pat on the head — only to be disappointed"...

[beekeeperspicnic]

[IMG Description - A comic strip with a cartoon of a woman with big round glasses speaking to the reader.

Hello Tumblr! I'm Jabbage, I'm making a game called the Beekeeper's Picnic. You play retired Sherlock Holmes trying to assemble the perfect picnic for Watson and solving cosy mysteries! Since this is Tumblr I need to tell you that you can decide the direction the relationship between Holmes and Watson will take - friends? found family? Queerplatonic partners? Romantic partners? Also there's a dog and you can tell him he's a good good boy. You can play an extended demo for free, and the game is currently funding on Kickstarter. Thanks for checking out my project! <3]

Check out the Kickstarter & Demo here!

You can follow this account for game updates, and reblogging super dooper appreciated!

[lisbeth-kk]

May prompts

Today's prompt is awkward.

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 5)

Summary: Rosie's youngest godmother takes her shopping, but Sherlock is persistent in choosing the shop. The occasion is too important to leave it to Primark to bring out something tolerable.

Five Years Old

Molly took me shopping for THE dress, but Papa decided the shop.

“It’s too important,” he argued when Molly told him he was being silly for making her take me to Harrod’s, but he didn’t budge.

“She’s only five, Sherlock. Besides, do you know how much it’ll cost?” Molly tried to reason with him.

It turned out that it wasn’t only Dad who could be stubborn, so Harrod’s it was. 

I felt like a princess in that dress we picked. According to the woman at Harrod’s the colour was tea green. Tiny white daisies were spread over the skirt. It felt almost weightless to wear and the skirt stood out in a perfect circle when I twirled quickly. We also bought white shoes and a matching hairband. 

***

“Why is everybody crying?” I whispered to my grandfather. “Papa is only saying nice things about Dad.”

Dad and Papa had married hours earlier, and in-between dishes, there were speeches to be held apparently. It was rather tedious, though I liked listening to Papa and Dad pledging their love for each other. That being said, I already knew this, so it was most likely for the guests benefit they had to repeat it. And Papa hated repeating himself… 

I know better now, obviously, and I totally understand why people were crying. Both Dad and Papa seemed to have forgotten about their guests, and focused on the other man entirely when they spoke about how they met etc. Papa seeked me out and urged me to stand on my chair when he spoke about me though. I ran over to hug him when he lost his voice.

“My precious girl,” he whispered when he knelt in front of me and held me tight.

I tear up every time I think about that moment, not to mention when I see it on tape.

***

Papa wrote a waltz for Dad, and when he played the violin, I danced around the floor in Dad’s arms. When Papa lowered his bow, the quintet started playing the waltz again, and then Dad and Papa danced. Greg Lestrade offered to dance with me like Dad had done, but I wanted to watch my parents. 

When I looked over at my uncle, I saw that he followed every dance move, and his eyes were slightly soft. I even thought I spotted some moisture, but that might have been the light.

***

I fell asleep on my uncle’s lap, but I woke when Dad and Papa came to kiss me goodbye.

“You be a good girl, and listen to Molly and Nana while we’re away, sweetheart,” Dad said sternly, but the stars in his eyes, softened the lecture.

“No experiments in my absence, Watson,” Papa said mock serious. 

Before he stood, he held me tight, breathed me in and whispered with a quiver in his voice: “I’ll miss you, my heart.” 

The awkward moments that had been avoided up until now, at least to my knowledge, started when Greg came over to see the newlyweds off. His pronunciation was a bit slurred at that point, and both uncle Myc, Dad and Papa shushed him when he wished them a fabulous six holiday.

His description puzzled me. I thought Dad and Papa were going on something called ahoneymoon. How the number six fit into that, I couldn’t fathom. Were they to visit six different places, or…

“You will figure it out in due course,” uncle Myc said with a blushing face. “Now, shall we dance one last time before I bring you and Nana home? It seems like a certain major needs some urgent rescuing.”

I looked over at the dance floor where Nana was showing off her dance skills, clinging to Dad’s old friend. He was sweating quite profusely in his uniform, and his eyes looked slightly panicked.

“Nana has a good time,” I pondered. “Papa says she was a bur... burlesque dancer when she was young. Is that burl…”

Uncle’s blush deepened and he cut me off by clearing his throat and muttering something about reminding his brother to watch his mouth around little girls.

Also available on AO3

Tags in the replies.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Creeping Man pt 1

Mr. Sherlock Holmes was always of opinion that I should publish the singular facts connected with Professor Presbury, if only to dispel once for all the ugly rumours which some twenty years ago agitated the university and were echoed in the learned societies of London.

Watson, are you telling me that all the times you published a story that would be exceedingly compromising for one of the people involved if they were associated with it, you had a story available that could actually help someone by being published? Watson. Watson? I just want to talk.

Now we have at last obtained permission to ventilate the facts...

This is such a turn of phrase. I want to use it. "Let's ventilate the facts, shall we?"

Come at once if convenient—if inconvenient come all the same. — S. H.

Infamous line is infamous. Why did you bother putting anything other than "Come at once". Why didn't you save time and energy.

"But apart from this I had uses. [...] I stimulated him."

I really shouldn't do these after 11 o'clock. I just keep finding innuendoes in everything.

A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones. And their passing moods may reflect the passing moods of others.” I shook my head. “Surely, Holmes, this is a little far-fetched,” said I.

I love that this is where Watson draws the line. All the other spurious pseudoscience Holmes spouts is fine, but the fact that the attitude of a family might affect their pet is preposterous. I mean, probably not to the extent Holmes is saying here, but there's definitely something in 'if someone has an unhappy and/or aggressive pet, they might very well be a dick', because that's what abuse does.

"Why does Professor Presbury's wolfhound, Roy, endeavour to bite him?”

Because he just tastes so very delicious. Next question.

I sank back in my chair in some disappointment. Was it for so trivial a question as this that I had been summoned from my work?

Watson, you've left your work of your own volition - no summoning necessary - for far less. Don't pretend to have a work ethic now. We've all read the stories.

OK, if the delicious theory doesn't pan out, the other option is that Presbury is an imposter. Or something is happening that upsets the dog and the owner is just the person closest to it and therefore bears the brunt of its displeasure. My Mum had a dog growing up that was nervous around large groups of people. Of course people would come up to the dog when she was walking it and because she was nearest to it, it would bite her.

“Have no fear, Mr. Bennett. Dr. Watson is the very soul of discretion..."

Oh yeah, he's super discreet. He just takes notes on all your private business and then publishes it in a magazine for the entirety of London, and the wider world, to read. Discretion is his middle name. Well, Hdiscretion. Doctor John Hdiscretion Watson. The H is silent.

Seriously though, you're lucky he thinks you're handsome.

"...this gentleman, Mr. Trevor Bennett, is professional assistant to the great scientist, lives under his roof, and is engaged to his only daughter."

Well that engagement is already making me suspicious. Something's going on there.

"He is, I gather, a man of very virile and positive, one might almost say combative, character."

I don't know how to read this description. Positive as in optimistic? But that doesn't seem to go with combative. Does combative mean he's aggressive? Is the scientist a dickhead?

And now there's another engagement with another professor's daughter. That's going to get confusing.

"The lady, Alice Morphy, was a very perfect girl both in mind and body..."

The past tense here is ominous. Also she's 'perfect'? in mind and body? I don't even know what that means. Someone did once tell me that they didn't have any bodily imperfections. I assumed they just had a very robust and positive self image.

Still, even Mary Poppins was 'practically perfect', not 'very perfect'.

"None the less, it did not meet with full approval in his own family.” “We thought it rather excessive,” said our visitor. “Exactly. Excessive and a little violent and unnatural.

My first thought is that if Alice marries professor 1 and has a son, then that's going to fuck with Edith's inheritance somewhat, and she and her fiance might take exception to that. My second thought is 'excessive' is a weird way to describe an engagement. My third thought is that no engagement should ever be described as 'violent and unnatural', even if it is only a little violent. Nope. I do not like that description. Wtf is even going on here?

"It chanced, however, that our client here, Mr. Bennett, received a letter from a fellow-student in Prague, who said that he was glad to have seen Professor Presbury there..."

Bitches in Prague need to learn how to shut up, clearly. Don't snitch on people. Traitor.

So Professor Presbury has been possessed by a demon from Prague. Good to know, good to know. We'll add that to the alternate Sherlock Fantasy universe.

"He told me that certain letters might come to him from London which would be marked by a cross under the stamp. These were to be set aside for his own eyes only. [...] they had the E. C. mark, and were in an illiterate handwriting."

Can handwriting be illiterate? Surely in order to have handwriting, you have to be literate. Should this be illegible?

"The professor brought back a little wooden box from his travels. [...] One day, in looking for a canula, I took up the box. To my surprise he was very angry, and reproved me in words which were quite savage for my curiosity."

Mystery box. ACD is JJ Abrams, confirmed

"After that we had to banish Roy to the stables."

#JusticeForRoy

I'm sure he had excellent reasons for what he did.

"Yesterday was such a day. It was not my father with whom I lived. His outward shell was there, but it was not really he.”

All signs point to demon.

[storytellingdreamer]

Watching Granada Holmes: On David Burke as Dr Watson

Okay so before I watch the next Granada episode, Empty House, I need to say goodbye to David Burke as Dr John Watson. David Burke couldn’t continue with Granada’s adaptation after FINA due to scheduling conflicts, which led to him helping them find his replacement, Edward Hardwicke. 

This post is me processing that in the hope that I can learn to love Edward Hardwicke as Watson without feeling too disappointed he’s not David Burke.

You see, going into Granada Holmes, I’d already been informed that Jeremy Brett is the Sherlock Holmes. This is definitely true. However, at this moment, all I can say that for me, David Burke will be the Dr John Watson. 

My tag for David Burke is “he smiles with his whole face”. Right from the start, his expressiveness intrigued me, and made it very easy to feel like I was part of the story. His openness invited me as the audience in. It also doesn’t hurt that he has a very fine voice - I’ve memorised the way he says “Holmes” and other words like “black moods”. They’re very fun to say in his accent! 

Watching the Granada Holmes series has felt very personal. For starters, watching TV shows or movies are always immersive experiences for me, due to the way my brain processes information. I get “sucked in” to the story very easily - it feels like I’m another character, almost, observing. It’s also hard because I’m having to process the audio-visual information, the language, the social information, the emotional contexts - and anything they trigger in me from past experiences - all at once. 

Granada Holmes is a very safe way to do that, because most of the time, the bad guys get their comeuppance in the end, and the client of the week has resolution, and perhaps catharsis. 

It also feels very safe because Holmes and Watson guide me through it. I’ll say more about Jeremy Brett at the end of my entire watch through, but for David Burke, my “oh, you’re my Watson” journey really took flight with the end of Solitary Cyclist. 

See, the thing about David Burke’s Watson isn’t just that he’s very expressive. He’s very reassuring. Steady and dependable, but also openly delighted in Holmes’s brilliance. A perfect foil for the audience. 

He’s the one who instinctively knows how to handle clients (see: any Woman in Need episode), and takes care of Holmes almost before Holmes knows he needs it (see: Norwood Builder) - and when he’s protecting you/ the client, by goodness do you feel it. 

You’ll recall that I had plenty to say about Solitary Cyclist, so much so that I wrote two posts for it. One about the episode recap, and another, which I wrote first, of my feelings about the episode’s context. Look, the Woman In Need episodes always strike a little close to home for me for various reasons. And after my first experience of that in Solitary Cyclist, one of the things that comforted me after was remembering, well, this moment: 

[Image description: Watson holds the drugged Violet Smith to him protectively with one hand while holding his gun with the other, a very serious look on his face. /end image description.]

Followed by this one: 

Watson: “You may call that love. I call it selfishness.”

[Image description: Holmes and Watson sit side-by-side, staring in disgust at one of the baddies of the story. /end image description.]

In the first scene, Watson was Violet Smith’s physical protector at a time when she couldn’t defend herself. His words afterward, a delightful castigation of the villain. As a woman, hearing someone say those things (and keep saying them in other episodes), whether to the perpetrator as a scold, to the client/ victim in comfort, or to Holmes about how very serious the situation is, has been good. 

It helps that Burke’s Watson also has this “softness with a core of steel” energy. The sort of energy that makes one think, if I was in trouble, I would very much like to have Burke’s Watson protect me and tell me it wasn’t my fault and such (while Brett’s Holmes solved the problem that had trapped me in the first place). 

Basically, I would very much like to be their friend. Or their honourary relation (which is what they are to the Women In Need). 

We see the Sherlock Holmes stories through Watson’s eyes, as he is the Narrator. (A fact brought home by Granada’s adaptation of The Final Problem.) Having David Burke in the role has been very comforting - and fun. We experience his emotions with him, and I have deeply enjoyed it. 

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Adult, Fantasy Mystery

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Content Warning: Murder, Body horror, Death, Violence, Blood, Ableism, Drug use, Classism, War

Summary:

In Daretana’s most opulent mansion, a high Imperial officer lies dead—killed, to all appearances, when a tree spontaneously erupted from his body. Even in this canton at the borders of the Empire, where contagions abound and the blood of the Leviathans works strange magical changes, it’s a death at once terrifying and impossible.

Called in to investigate this mystery is Ana Dolabra, an investigator whose reputation for brilliance is matched only by her eccentricities.

At her side is her new assistant, Dinios Kol. Din is an engraver, magically altered to possess a perfect memory. His job is to observe and report, and act as his superior’s eyes and ears--quite literally, in this case, as among Ana’s quirks are her insistence on wearing a blindfold at all times, and her refusal to step outside the walls of her home.

Din is most perplexed by Ana’s ravenous appetite for information and her mind’s frenzied leaps—not to mention her cheerful disregard for propriety and the apparent joy she takes in scandalizing her young counterpart. Yet as the case unfolds and Ana makes one startling deduction after the next, he finds it hard to deny that she is, indeed, the Empire’s greatest detective.

As the two close in on a mastermind and uncover a scheme that threatens the safety of the Empire itself, Din realizes he’s barely begun to assemble the puzzle that is Ana Dolabra—and wonders how long he’ll be able to keep his own secrets safe from her piercing intellect.

Featuring an unforgettable Holmes-and-Watson style pairing, a gloriously labyrinthine plot, and a haunting and wholly original fantasy world, The Tainted Cup brilliantly reinvents the classic mystery tale.

*Opinions*

Robert Jackson Bennett’s other series, The Founders trilogy, was so well received, that it made me interested when this book came out earlier this year. This is compared to a fantasy Sherlock Holmes and Watson (that is like the first line of the description on Goodreads) and while I think that is a fair comparison to make, that does not take into account the huge amount of world-building done in this novel that I think is the true highlight. At its heart, this is a murder mystery, but all the bones and muscles that surround it are what this a truly enjoyable read for me.

The narration follows Dinios Kol, an assistant investigator of the Iudex who has recently been assigned to the eccentric Immunis Ana Dolabra. As the Iudex division is tasked with finding justice when crimes happen within the Empire when the body of a dead Engineer is found at one of the most influential family’s homes with a contagion growing out of his body, Din and Ana are tasked with finding the murderer. Especially because the death happened on the lands of the Haza family and it is unclear if they may be involved or a target of this assassin. The investigation takes Din and Ana out of their smaller town and into the beating heart of the effort of the Empire to keep the Leviathans from making landfall. With the loom of another Leviathan attack, Din and Ana find that many more individuals have been killed with the same contagion, and clues that point to more than one murderer may be at play. Yet, corruption runs deep in the Empire and soon it becomes clear that Din and Ana will only be able to rely on one another. 

This novel reads like a police procedural and I don’t mean that in a bad way. As someone who grew up watching CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds, and those types of shows, there was a familiarity to the structure of this novel. We are introduced to the first victim, we get information that leads the team to believe that something else is going on, more victims are found and then it is a race to find the killer(s) before they strike again or strike a member of the team. Now, I am not saying that this book is predictable in any way, but Bennett did not reinvent the wheel with the plot structure. I don’t think that every novel needs to do something weird or different, there is comfort in knowing the way a story is going to go even if you are unsure of the steps it will take. As someone who did countless assignments to Law and Order in the background, there was a coziness to it even with all the death and gruesome events that took place.

I think the mystery itself is well crafted so that the reader can pick up on clues while reading so when Ana or Din come to a conclusion, you can follow the logical steps of their explanation to get there. A pitfall that a lot of writers fall into with a Sherlock-esque character is that their leaps in logic are not backed up with textual evidence so the reveal doesn’t feel earned, but just told to the reader. I also hate when the reader is not given the information needed to solve the mystery, it makes it feel as if the writer wants a big twist instead of a fulfilling conclusion. I don’t feel as if Bennett fell into this trap and whenever Ana explained her thought process, it was the aha! Moment it was meant to be. I also appreciated that Din was not just the assistant in her eyes, but also made a number of connections and discoveries himself without Ana’s assistance. He wasn’t just a vehicle for the story, he was a character. 

My favorite part of this novel, however, had to be the world that Bennett wrapped around his mystery. It was lush and dangerous and you are just dropped in to figure it all out. Everything that we are presented with, from the idea of the contagions to the leviathans, to the augmentations and grafts, to the Empire itself is fascinating and I would read a whole novel just about the history of this world. This novel does have a feeling of science fiction about it because it is obvious that science has a large part in this society, but then the Leviathans put it firmly in the realm of fantasy. Bennett’s descriptions are visceral and so well done that I felt like I was in the jungle, or the mud, or looking at a dead body right alongside Din. I cannot wait for other books to see this world expand further.

While in the acknowledgments of this novel, Bennett stated that Ana ended up being close to a Hannibal character, I think she was given enough humanity throughout so that the reader cared about her without her ever being soft. Much like other brilliant minds, she is eccentric and incorrigible and oftentimes rude, but she is also given enough moments when it comes to Din that you see her as a person as well. Then there are small moments where you see that she does care for Din and doesn’t want him to be injured during the investigation. I think having her being overstimulated easily so she had to have her eyes blindfolded, leaving Din to be her eyes, not only is a great plot device for him to be the active member of the investigation but also made her have a vulnerability aside from the inability to talk to people properly. 

Din grew on me throughout the novel. During the first fourth I did not like him or Ana all that much, but the mystery was interesting enough to keep me interested. However, by spending all the time close to Din and what he was thinking and experiencing, I started to care about him and worry when he was put into numerous dangerous situations. I also appreciated that both he and Ana have disabilities that they have to find workarounds to manage. The small bit of romance in this novel was so sweet and so well done, I appreciated its addition to the story, even though it was a small part of this whole novel. I don’t know if we’ll see them together again, but what we got was a perfect accent to the story. 

Overall, I really enjoyed this reading experience and gave this a 4.5 rounded down to a 4. I got this from the library but I am totally going to buy a copy and continue on in the series. I need to know more about this world if nothing else. 

[ilikereadingactually]

The Mimicking of Known Successes

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older

i will happily admit that i had a long Sherlock Holmes phase precipitated by the BBC's Sherlock. that phase ended fairly abruptly when the Sherlock show and fandom simultaneously crashed and burned, or at least that's how it felt to me; i was so turned off by the whole thing that i didn't revisit ANY Holmesian books or media for years afterward, even though i liked quite a lot of it. i've dipped back in a bit since then (because it's hard to resist the charms of Enola Holmes), and am slowly remembering what i loved about the original stories.

this book has all of that charm and then some. honestly what could be more up my alley than wlw Holmes and Watson in a post-environmental-collapse-of-Earth future in space?? literally nothing, it's a perfect book for me. Malka Older really captures everything that makes the original Sherlock Holmes so delightful to me! the first person narrative, for one, which is pitch-perfectly Watsonian in vocabulary and tone, both nostalgic and totally readable. the excellent chemistry and dynamic between Mossa and Pleiti is also spot on, pleasantly messy and immediately fond and entirely satisfying. and the mystery! i loved that the mystery was driving the plot but that the emotional story was the more important arc, and i loved that i had a sense of how the pieces connected but didn't understand it all until Mossa put it together, which is just how a Holmesian story ought to feel.

a fantastic read, and a quick read too, and i'm DYING for the next one (already requested it on NetGalley even though it comes out pretty soon...)

the deets

how i read it: @digger1649 literally put the hardcover into my hands as i was picking up other books at the library and said "you should read this," and he was correct. thanks for all the absolute banger recommendations lately!!! this is one i will definitely buy for myself and recommend at work.

try this if you: are a Holmes fan of any stripe, dig a queer mystery, love sff that imagines what we'll do after running the Earth into the ground, or just delight in the interesting combo of old-fashioned gaslamp language/tone and a futuristic setting!

some bits i really liked: i just love them and also the references so much

Mossa waved that aside. "But you also know me, and how I work. Explaining it to someone else would take too long." I could not restrain a feeling of warmth as if that were praise or even affection and not merely a statement of fact. Believing in signs of affection from Mossa was a trap, because it led to expecting signs of affection.

---

"And you were saying about your specific project?" "Ah yes. I study the British Isles, in the mid-twentieth century. At the moment I'm working on a very useful book about rabbits and their adventures. There's a wealth of descriptions of the flora and fauna in a highly circumscribed, clearly-identified area."

---

Mossa's expression was like the one she had worn in theoretical forestry class when the professor had offered successively more difficult elimination problems until Mossa, alone, had comprehended the final paradigm: as though I were as fascinating and satisfying to grasp as her most difficult questions. But then she shook her head. "Pleiti," she said, "I haven't changed."

---

Mossa responded simply with a Classical quotation: "'Why are men?'"

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Sounds of Justice (4)

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions and descriptions of jail, cursing, non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, car crashes, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), mentions of rape (not to the reader), and unwanted advances (nothing happens to the reader).

Spanish translation

¡Darle respeto!  ¿Me entienden? - Give her respect! Do you understand me?

Chapter 4

With mounting frustration, Rafael replaced the empty coffee pot into the machine on the counter.

“That’s just perfect.” He thought venomously, “Something else that I need to fix.”

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts and his brow furrowed.  No one at SVU ever knocked if they needed something; it was one of his pet peeves when it came to the squad.  While Carmen always knocked, she was out at lunch and so it couldn’t be her.

Confused and curious as to who it could be, Rafael disregarded the matter of his empty coffee pot and opened the door to reveal one of the NCIS agents on the other side.  His mouth thinned at the fact that this agent’s boss disliked him on principle because of his job but then he noticed the object that the agent was holding and he felt a flicker of warmth spread through him.

“Does the coffee come with conditions?  Or any more of your boss’ rules?” Rafael bit out before he could stop himself.

You shook your head, “No.  Each one of us has been there with long days and impossible cases.  Because we worked together so much, we got into the habit of doing coffee runs for the team.  We rotate so the job doesn’t fall to just one person.”

You offered him the coffee and Rafael accepted it.  His gaze darted from the coffee cup to you.  Catching his gaze and the meaning behind it, a wry smile decorated your lips, “It’s not poisoned.  I asked Sonny how you usually take your coffee and he told me.”

Cautiously Rafael took a sip.  He wouldn’t put it past the detective to mess with his coffee in retaliation for Rafael ignoring him earlier but to Rafael’s relief, the coffee was exactly how he liked it.

“Perhaps it’s against Fordham Law’s moral code to mess with coffee considering he too needs it to function.”

“You have impeccable timing Special Agent (Surname).  Come in.  Have a seat.” His mother had done her best to instil certain, preferred values in him and he wasn’t about to disregard those lessons.  He had an image to maintain after all.

“What made you decide to become a Special Agent and work with NCIS?”  He asked cordially as he sat down behind his desk.

You smiled, “I didn’t set out exactly to become a Special Agent with NCIS.  When I was seven, I had a cold and had to stay home.  My dad stayed with me so my mum could go to work.  I was pretty miserable so he told me the joke where Watson and Sherlock are camping and someone steals their tent to cheer me up.”

Rafael felt envy spear through him as you recounted your story and your bond with your father.  He took another sip of his coffee to calm himself.  The surge of caffeine helped him to focus on your voice.

“I knew the joke was funny but I had no idea who those men were.  When I was feeling better, my dad gave me his copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle.  I read it cover to cover for the next five weeks and every time that I read it, I noticed a different detail.  It bugged my parents when I analysed people on the street and family members.  Years later I made my way to the BAU and then I transferred to NCIS.”

Rafael tapped his finger on the side of the coffee cup, “It sounds like you were very good at your job.  Why did you transfer?”

“Flattery counselor?” You teased, “There’s no need; I’m already working alongside you with your team.”

Rafael resisted the temptation to point out that they weren’t his team, not really.  He didn’t want to give you any clues about his other life. 

“You’re lucky we’re not in the courtroom right now,” he shot back teasingly.  “I might think you had something to hide by the way that you’re evading the question.”

“I’m an open book.”  You retorted.

“I doubt that.  You wouldn’t have become an NCIS agent if you were too easy to read.”

“If that’s the case, you won’t have any problems answering my question.”

“One of my teammates,” there was that word again.  Rafael’s hand twitched slightly but he disguised it as bringing his coffee cup to his lips for another sip.  “Described our job as getting in the mind of our unknown subject.  There were times when I felt like I had absorbed part of our subject’s mind after a case.  I started to get that feeling more and more and then I wondered what I was losing at the same time.”

Rafael set his coffee cup down abruptly on his desk, “Take a walk with me.”  He ordered, standing up and pulling on his jacket.

Perplexed you remained seated, “Why?”

“I need fresh air and I hate walking alone.  It’s unlikely that we’ll experience any danger and if we do, I’m sure that you’re more than capable of handling it.”

“I appreciate your confidence in my skills, counselor.”

 “Call me Rafael and I’m certain my confidence isn’t misplaced.”

You gave Rafael permission to call you by your name. Then you and Rafael left the building and walked through the streets of Manhattan.

“Tell me about D.C.”

You shrugged “Not much to tell really.  The main things appear to be the same as the city, the transport, and the variety of food options.  The only difference is that D.C. is a little warmer this time of year.”

“Cold is cold no matter where you are.”  Rafael made no attempt to disguise the distaste in his voice.  He preferred the warmer weather and sunny days.

“That's true. Especially if the heating breaks and your teammates and boss end up crashing at your place.”

“You’re that close with your team?”  Rafael asked incredulously.  He couldn’t imagine ever being that open and vulnerable with the SVU team.

“You can’t work with people as much as we do and not grow close to them,” you replied.  “Our bonds are fo--”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by an obnoxiously loud wolf whistle and with narrowed eyes, you whipped around in the direction of the sound, placing yourself between Rafael and the direction the sound came from.  Since your back was to Rafael, you didn’t see him narrowing his eyes too as he pinpointed where the sound had come from.

Two young men were making their way towards you and it took Rafael precious seconds to identify them.  His fury rose as he recognised the two men because they looked familiar enough to their fathers who worked for Rafael.

The men stopped in front of you.  One of them positioned himself slightly behind the other and Rafael knew you would have picked up on that detail as it was signalling that the man closer to you was the leader of the two.

His suspicions were confirmed when the man closest to you spoke, “I would remember if I had seen you before.”

Rafael’s opinion of you grew as you gave no reply and chose to meet the leader’s gaze.

Sensing that he wasn’t getting anywhere with his current course of action, the leader tried a different tactic, “Why don’t you ditch grandpa and come with us to the club?”

Rafael raised his chin and was about remind the two men of who they were dealing with, damn the consequences, when you spoke, “Are you referring to the comedy club on sixth?  Clearly you’re desperate to fill those empty seats.”

Rafael switched his attention to the second man.  He was clearly the smarter of the two, though that would be of no benefit after Rafael was through with him, and Rafael noticed the instant recognition appeared in the second man’s gaze and he realised who they were dealing with.

The second man reached forwards and grabbed his companion’s wrist, “Let’s go.  She’s not interested.”

The leader of the two scoffed and wrenched his arm free.  He sneered at you, “There’s no accounting for taste.”

“Nor class apparently.”  You replied coolly.

“¡Darle respeto!  ¿Me entienden?” Rafael growled lowly at the same time.

Insistently, the second man reached forwards again and pulled his leader to his side.   Since he was within earshot, Rafael was able to pick up the rapid Spanish that the second man whispered into his companion’s ear.  There were a few words that Rafael was unfamiliar with and he reasoned that these two men either grew up with different vocabulary than he did or their family came from another Spanish speaking country.  Either way, even though there were a few unfamiliar words, Rafael was able to get the gist of the one-sided conversation.

The leader drew back, horror crawling across his face as his gaze flickered between you and Rafael before focusing on Rafael with a plea for forgiveness in his eyes.  Rafael decided then and there that his plea for forgiveness would go unanswered.

For now, he would let the two men think they were off the hook, “You accosted a NCIS agent in the presence of one of Manhattan’s ADAs.”  He turned to you and casually asked if you wanted to press charges.  Whatever you said wouldn’t change his plans too much however, the men would probably feel like they were shielded from his wrath if they were locked up in a cell.  They would be wrong.

“Just go on with your day.”

Rafael slowly let a smirk cross his face, “You heard her.  Go.  Enjoy the rest of your day.”

The men gulped and Rafael knew that they had heard the hidden meaning in his words: “Your time is limited.”  They were out of his sight within milliseconds.

“That’s never happened in D.C.” You remarked as you stared after the men.

“I wish I could say that it was a once off,” Rafael replied, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.  “I once had a man threaten me on the steps of a courthouse.”

Disbelief was etched across your face as you turned to him.

“Don’t you believe me?” He asked, adding a hurt tone for the right effect.

“I do,” you replied hastily.  “I just…” You trailed off and shook your head exasperated, “can’t believe that people don’t seem to have any decency or standards anymore.”

“On that note,” Rafael motioned that it was time to head back to the office.  “I heard you received an anonymous call yesterday at the precinct.”

“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing case.”  You refused as you walked back into the building.

“Sonny told me.” Rafael lied as the two of you reached his office.  He smiled warmly at Carmen and introduced the two of you.  Carmen then informed him that there weren’t any messages and he noticed that her coffee cup was empty so he encouraged her to go grab a refill.

The two of you entered his office, and he added the final touch, “Keep me updated.”  He declared softly, “We want the same thing.  We want to bring whoever killed Ensign Michael Burns to justice because that will mean justice for his victim as well.”

Later that night, long after Carmen had finished and bid him goodnight, Rafael left his office.  He strolled into the derelict apartment where the two men from this afternoon sat tied to chairs and with gags in their mouths.  Evidently, their captors had grown tired of their pleas for mercy and judging by the redness in their eyes and the tear tracks on their faces, they had been begging for mercy for quite some time.

“How long have you had them here?” Rafael questioned uncaringly as the two men renewed their pleas for mercy.

“Two hours,” his second in charge replied.

“And the drugs?”

“Not in their systems yet.  Their fathers have been taken care of.”

“Hmm,” Rafael mused thoughtfully, his gaze on the laced food.  “Such a shame that they had to pay for their sons’ mistakes.”

His second in command smiled eerily, “Indeed.  I thought you might like to do the honours.”

“With pleasure,” Rafael replied as he picked up the first piece of food.  Understanding his boss’ plan, the second in command moved silently over to one of the men.  He seemed to realise what was going to happen because he thrashed around uselessly as the second in command removed the gag from his mouth and Rafael stepped over to him.

[theriseofthesea]

The Red Headed League live blog! (Part Two)

Starting out strong here! Gotta say it is rather quite unusual. Though I gotta agree with Mr. Wilson, I would not enjoy being laughed at.

Holmes is bird confirmed!! I absolutely love this description. It’s so cute!!

^^ Holmes :))

Hehe. Spy mode activated!

He is very much happy! The music! The atmosphere! Perfect for stimming. :))

Meanwhile we can definitely assert that Watson is not at all paying attention to the music but is staring at his dear friend. We love! I would love to go to a concert with Holmes, it would be so fun!

Things are about to go down!! I’m extremely intrigued by this. At least Holmes got to enjoy some lovely music. He deserves that.

[hergan416]

Why do I love Moriarty the Patriot?

It's not just like...compelling story. Sure it has compelling story, but ultimately it is a Sherlock Holmes adaptation. Surely I would have gotten into I dunno, Elementary when my mom was super into it when I was a teen, or the old BBC show my ex's grandparents had on at their house all the time (that more or less followed ACD canon). Maybe even ACD's books...which I like but am languishing on reading even after getting into MTP). So why this one?

Admittedly, I am the kind of person who is much more interested in animated works than live action, so I'm a little biased towards the format of an anime (and then finding the manga for more context after I love it). That's definitely a me thing.

But why did I start to hyperfixate on it? How did it become my fandom?

Gonna have some heavy topics and spoilers now.

It's relating to every single character as human. It's the way the relationships are so real and easy to imagine. It's the main character...who basically tries to commit suicide around the same age that I tried to commit suicide, failing, then having to learn to live with himself.

It's about the struggle to relate to people, to communicate, even for brilliant people who are very close (Will and Al and Louis), even for brilliant people who want to be (Sherlock and Liam), even for people who at first glance don't all seem to be neurodivergent (Sherlock and Watson). It's about how no friendship or familial relationship, no matter how deep the ties go, is perfect. It's about found family and blood ties and being true to oneself.

It's about good and evil and what those terms even mean. It's about the inherent worth of humanity. Nobles not finding all people to be people. Louis lives because William has been acknowledging his worth and thinks Holmes can provide that for William. But in the end, Louis and William both find their own worth for themselves. Louis pushes forward and really starts to shine in his new role. He's so good at what he does. He's so comfortable. He's a leader, not a servant. He is the new head of the family.

William too, learns a lot from having to live with just himself to look after (and maybe Sherlock). But he's not enmeshed with Sherlock the way he was with his brothers. He's learning to live as his own person, to become himself. Not an actor on a stage, not someone he is expected to be, to be vulnerable, to not know the answers. Because when you are smart like that...you're supposed to know all the answers. Even now.

It's beautiful. The Final Problem isn't enough. The first part ends with a brief description of how things happen after a three year time skip. Its about healing. And not healing. And struggling to move forward anyway.

How could I NOT love it?

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Christian Watson

Published: Aug 9, 2023

Once wildly popular, the sweeping Diversity, Equity and Inclusion movement is starting to crash and burn.

Even companies that championed DEI initiatives in the aftermath of the George Floyd case in 2020 are now changing their tune. In the past month, leading entertainment companies — including Warner Bros, Netflix and Disney — have all fired their DEI executives.

To understand this stunning reversal, look no further than the contradictory and often illogical concepts at the heart of DEI.

Proponents of DEI claim that diversity promotes “learning.” Queens University, for example, argues that a diverse student body “promotes creativity, as well as better education, as those with differing viewpoints are able to collaborate to create solutions.”

One could find these claims more believable if those who support DEI did not also claim that students learn better when the teacher “looks like them.” If diversity enables us to learn better, why do students of color learn best with professors of the same race?

Claims of racist behavior often include contradictory charges, even in medicine.

One allegation is the claim that pregnant Black women receive inferior medical treatment. For example, The New York Times recently reported that Black women are given epidurals for pain more often than white women. The same article claimed that Black women “described having their pain dismissed,” leading readers to wonder how Black women receiving too much pain medication also means their pain is ignored.

The Association for American Medical Colleges contends that “research shows that racial concordance can improve communication, trust and adherence to medical advice.” Yet, if a white patient chose not to see a Black doctor based on his race, it would clearly — and appropriately — be called racism.

The contradictions continue in culture and entertainment. Look no further than the diversity-obsessed Hollywood. Today, if a white actor is cast to play a non-“white” role, critics complain the film is “whitewashed.” Meanwhile, shows and movies featuring people of color depicting historically white characters are lauded for their diversity.

There are no cries for diversity in pro basketball, where 73 percent of the players are Black, while the NHL is accused of racism because 84 percent of its players are white.

Ditto for jazz musicians, who are predominantly Black, versus their classical counterparts, who are mostly white.

The dilemma extends to enjoying other cultures in everyday life. There was a time in America when we proudly enjoyed foods, dress and traditions of many cultures but those who do so today risk being condemned for cultural appropriation.

Ibram X. Kendi, a leading proponent of DEI, famously said: “The only remedy to racist discrimination is antiracist discrimination.” His description underlines the self-serving nature of the DEI philosophy. After all, “white guilt” can be monetized and leveraged to give certain minorities an advantage.

Fortunately, public fatigue for DEI is beginning to show, from corporate America increasingly ditching DEI to the Supreme Court ruling ending affirmative action.

However, we will have a long way to go to restore a merit-based society in which all Americans can enjoy equal freedom and opportunities. With the contradictions inherent in today’s DEI framework, it’s only a matter of time.

==

God is both good and inscrutable. Perfect and needing worship. Loving and wrathful. Real and undetectable.

We can reasonably conclude that they don't know what they're talking about.

[see-arcane]

You mentioned Penelosa's uglyness, and it reminded me of the fact that Jonathan never calls Mina's face beautiful or pretty, remarks her youth etc. In fact, one time he describes the aftermath on her face later that day. "She was very, very pale—almost ghastly, and so thin that her lips were drawn away, showing her teeth in somewhat of prominence."

Not only did he not feel repulsed, he stayed up the night after, just looking at her sleeping face ("Her lips are curved and her face beams with happiness..." Later-- "How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina’s happy sleep, and came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I shall ever be.") for hours until she woke up and looked at him in the eyes (to make him promise to keep silent).

WARNING: Spoilers for Arthur Conan Doyle's, "The Parasite" and a giant slab of text ahead.

The thing is, even in "The Parasite," we aren't explicitly told that Miss Penelosa is ugly--she's just immediately put in an unflattering light by the narration of the protagonist, Austin Gilroy. His first estimate of her, well before he lets her try mesmerism on him and gets the unpleasant mind control ball rolling, is:

Any one less like my idea of a West Indian could not be imagined. She was a small, frail creature, well over forty, I should say, with a pale, peaky face, and hair of a very light shade of chestnut. Her presence was insignificant and her manner retiring. In any group of ten women she would have been the last whom one would have picked out. Her eyes were perhaps her most remarkable, and also, I am compelled to say, her least pleasant, feature. They were gray in color, — gray with a shade of green, — and their expression struck me as being decidedly furtive. I wonder if furtive is the word, or should I have said fierce? On second thoughts, feline would have expressed it better. A crutch leaning against the wall told me what was painfully evident when she rose: that one of her legs was crippled.

I was worried even before this that Gilroy would have something to throw in about race, as she's written as being from Trinidad--apparently where the party's host, Prof. Wilson's, wife is also from. The only saving grace*** is that apparently neither Gilroy (nor ACD) felt the need to add explicit racial themes to her being ~visually unpleasant~

An unpleasantness that, to Gilroy, seemingly centers only on her being over 40, a little plain, having a bad leg, and cool-ominous eyes. That's it. The horror of it all. (eyes rolling out of my head)

When compared with the kind of descriptions we get for certain male characters in horror literature, ala Edward Hyde's innate rancid vibes, Erik the Opera Ghost's outright decayed-corpse-bad looks, and Dracula just sweating Instant Dread (c) wherever he goes so that it sends everyone into an uneasy panic? It kind of just looks like ACD wrote a character with some shitty opinions about women who don't exist in the Pretty Perfect Maiden demographic on purpose, the better to have a narrative payoff when Penelosa starts making her legitimately creepy puppet master come-ons and acts of increasingly dangerous vengeance.

Doyle invented Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, two of the most forward-minded characters in literature to ever come out of that era. Along with all the extremely varied characters they help and/or cast icy side-eyes at for being the exact type of haughty prick Gilroy is being before Penelosa pulls the rug out from under him.

This is in addition to Penelosa never really being shown such disdain or disregard by any of the other characters. Mrs. Wilson, for the millisecond of screen time she gets, is obviously still a close friend from their history in Trinidad. Prof. Wilson is too enamored with the potential of her gifts when it comes to his own studies to even remember she has any looks to notice. Gilroy's fiancée, Agatha, is likewise thrilled at her talent and the honor of being tapped to demonstrate it at the party and never makes a sour comment about her.

Well before the villainy kicked in, Gilroy is shown to be the only one being an ass (at least internally) about Penelosa's appearance. Although, we do get some choice words from him later as she starts dancing him along to her whims. Such as:

 I am for the moment at the beck and call of this creature with the crutch. I must come when she wills it. I must do as she wills. Worst of all, I must feel as she wills. I loathe her and fear her, yet, while I am under the spell, she can doubtless make me love her.

He really cannot help mentioning the crutch. Calling back specifically to her physical condition, rather than just sitting with the already-terrifying prospect that is 'This stranger has decided they want me as a lover. I am already in love, already in a relationship, but they have such total control over me that they can walk me along like a doll against my will. This stranger can force me to do anything and I cannot stop them.' In classic literature terms, just as the situation with Dracula and Mina was, it's all but setting up a neon sign declaring, This is the beginnings of enslavement. This is violation waiting to happen. If something is not done, this could very well end with rape.

But no! Got to mention she's handicapped first! An over-40-years-old creature of a woman! Icky!

Meanwhile, here comes Mr. Jonathan Harker.

Mr. Gets a Good Grade in Sweet Young Man Wherever He Goes.

Mr. Holiest Love.

Mr. Would Rather Die Than Join the Sexy Vampire Ladies in Eternal Bloody Undead Harem Hijinks in the Castle.

Mr. I Will Fight God and the Devil and Turn My Blade on My Own Friends Before I Let Mina Be Slain, Even For the "Greater Good."

Mr. She Will Not Go into that Unknown and Terrible Land Alone.

Jonathan Harker and any kind of 'othering' are not on speaking terms. Not before, and certainly not after, being willing to send himself to Hell to protect and/or join Mina in undeath as a monster. He's made of unconditional love for his wife, on top of being a reflexively polite and friendly golden retriever of a man as a rule, and, as you said, never refers to Mina's beauty as one of her attractive traits. He reserves that just for points of her character. He makes out with her in front of their friends when she successfully figures out Dracula's escape route using her sexy sexy wits. He can admit when she's looking ghastly from suffering the ill effects of the whole mess, plus Dracula's bullshit. It never dents his love for her any more than his illness spoiled him in her eyes. The Harkers don't play like that.

Jonathan especially would have no shitty ageist or ableist commentary to make about Penelosa and would, I'd think, be one of the few people--and likely one of the first men--to be outright gentlemanly toward her, simply because that's just how he is. This combination of general kindness, his all-encompassing devotion to the One He Loves, and the implied notes throughout Dracula that he can swing wildly between lash-batting winsome damsel-gentleman and burning-eyed robust berserker cryptid powered by love is the kind of thing that would be catnip to plenty of lonely hearts.

And, unfortunately, is the very thing that would get Miss Penelosa to switch gears from dragging along Gilroy as a victim of opportunity and turning towards the Romance Lottery Jackpot that is Mr. Harker. She wouldn't even have to use her mesmerism hooks on him to have him be cordial and engaging! Imagine that! This is the same guy who got Count Dracula running on tangents about himself for whole nights at a time (and likely saved his neck for Far Longer than he'd have gotten away with if he were to get Gilroy about it).

Jonathan is--like Mina--very good at getting people to open up about themselves and their stories. He'd legit be casually charming and friendly Just Because, never registering Penelosa's looks however good bad or plain they are. Up until things took the inevitable Oh Shit turn, he'd really think he was just making another friend, never batting an eye about Penelosa's appearance, period.

(Something something, 'This person I'm attracted to was nice to me! I Have Decided We Are Soulmates and I Am Going to Keep Them.' taken to nightmare extremes.)

((I'm sure Mina will take all of this well. :^) ))

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (24) Imperfect

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 24)

Summary: Rosie meets a young man in Paris. Love is in the air but one thing gnaws on Rosie's nerves. She need to warn Timothy of her protective relatives without making him run for the hills.

Twenty-Four Years Old

When my first year in Paris was coming to an end, I went with a group from my school to a party. It was held in a big apartment that apparently belonged to some ridiculously rich aunt. The amount of red wine I’d drunk before we arrived, made sure I didn’t remember the details of the family tree.

What I do remember was the young man reading French poems with a British accent, and afterwards, the beginning of an interesting story about two men finding each other in a dream, and later apparently meeting in real life. I desperately wanted to hear more, but when I got him talking, he said that he wasn’t sure the idea was good enough to pursue.

“You wrote this?” I asked baffled. “I thought it was brilliant!”

“That’s probably the Pinot talking,” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “People normally say that it’s utter bullshit.”

I huffed at this ludicrous statement.

“So, why read it out loud, then?” I challenged him.

“Dunno. Perhaps I hoped that someone like you may turn up and like it” he quipped.

“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” I muttered and rolled my eyes.

***

Timothy and I were thick as thieves after that evening, and it soon evolved into more than friendship. He was studying literature and creative writing at Sorbonne Nouvelle, which was located quite close to Marguerite’s building. After our first official date, I pondered bringing him to my place, but uncle’s surveillance made me reconsider. Dad and Papa planned on visiting soon, and I knew it was futile trying to hide anything from Papa.

You’d better prepare the poor sod, before meeting the British Inquisition, I thought with a grimace.

After David, Papa wouldn’t make the same mistake of failing to observe even the tiniest flaw.

We hadn’t talked about our families at all, because there were so many other topics that were interesting, but I knew time was running out. I decided that after a good meal with some wine, it would be the perfect time to tell him about my fiercely protective family.

Rinsing and eating mussels, is a sticky and quite down-to-earth affair, and a better opportunity would be hard to find, so I plunged in with both feet so to speak.

“I…um…think it’s time to tell you about my…family,” I started.

“All of them, or just your fathers?” Timothy said while dipping a bite of bread in the creamy sauce.

I almost dropped my spoon in surprise. Had I told him that I was raised by two men and no mother? Not to my knowledge. Perhaps some of my other friends…

“Rosie?” Timothy said softly.

“Do you know who they are? Have you…”

Timothy lifted his hands, motioning me to calm down.

“Sorry, I assumed you knew,” he murmured. 

“Knew what?” I snapped. “You’re worse than…”

“I know who you are, Rosamund Watson-Holmes. A dossier, I think will suffice as a description, was delivered to me by a courier after our first coffee date. Four “letters” from each of your watchdogs. I didn’t know there were so many ways to threaten a person…”

“Damn, them!” I exclaimed. “Always, they have to meddle just because I had one bad boyfriend. Jesus, they’re incorrigible.”

“No matter how imperfect you find them, they love you dearly, or should I say fiercely,” Timothy chuckled. “After the initial shock, I must say I found it quite amusing and adorable. Four grown men, with the careers they have, your dad even an ex-military, and they’re all softies. Your police uncle was probably the scariest, come to think of it. Not that he doesn’t love you to bits, but he was the only one who stayed somewhat professional. He certainly didn’t bring any medieval torture methods or mafia tendencies into the equation if I hurt you purposefully or otherwise.”

“Oh, God,” I growled utterly devasted of my protective relatives.

Timothy chose to call them The Fab Four, which still earns him stern looks, but I know the four protectors are quite proud of themselves.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

[mariana-oconnor]

Charles Augustus Milverton pt 3

Last we left off, our intrepid heroes were indulging in a bit of light safe cracking and Watson was discovering some things about himself and his relationship with the law. (Watson has a Robin Hood complex, I'm telling you)

Of course, then their criminal activities were disturbed by a mysterious noise.

So far I had not dared to look out, but now I gently parted the division of the curtains in front of me and peeped through. From the pressure of Holmes's shoulder against mine I knew that he was sharing my observations.

Very tense moment, but the image of the two of them, one head above the other, peering through a crack in the curtains is very cartoonish in my head.

Right in front of us, and almost within our reach, was the broad, rounded back of Milverton.

Just... hit him with something. It's fine. Murder can just be another fun thing to add to your criminal resume.

I felt Holmes's hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if to say that the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his mind.

I believe this is the second hand-holding of the story.

In my own mind I had determined that if I were sure, from the rigidity of his gaze, that it had caught his eye, I would at once spring out, throw my great-coat over his head, pinion him, and leave the rest to Holmes.

I knew you were planning murder, Watson! Well, accessory to murder. But still.

The idea, however, that he might have an appointment at so strange an hour never occurred to me until a faint sound reached my ears from the veranda outside.

A rendezvous? At this time of night? How scandalous.

“It is I,” she said; “the woman whose life you have ruined.”

Well, who's about to get murdered. As is the general fate of blackmailers in murder mysteries. If you ever find yourself in a murder mystery story, don't blackmail anyone. It's the surest route to becoming a victim possible, right up there with saying 'I just remembered something' to someone in a public place but refusing to say anything until you're sure.

“So you sent the letters to my husband, and he—the noblest gentleman that ever lived, a man whose boots I was never worthy to lace—he broke his gallant heart and died."

Firstly, lady, you need to get over your self-recriminations. I bet your husband had done some things that were at least as bad. And also... people in these stories die of the silliest things sometimes. Did he have a heart attack because of the shock, or did he literally die of a broken heart because he found out some secret of yours? What was the secret? If it was just that you sent some letters to another man before you were married, then he really overreacted.

"But I will make allowance for your natural anger. Leave the room at once as you came, and I will say no more.”

That's very big talk for someone who's about to die.

“You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that!—and that!—and that!”

“You've done me,” he cried, and lay still.

The singularly least dramatic last words. I love it. You can't even say something cool when you're dying.

The woman looked at him intently and ground her heel into his upturned face.

With perfect coolness Holmes slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with bundles of letters, and poured them all into the fire. Again and again he did it, until the safe was empty.

Holmes having his priorities in order. Getting rid of everything.

A daring chase across the garden! Scaling a wall! Kicking free of a pursuer! 2 miles across the heath! The drama! The...

We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe...

Sudden and unexpected change in tone. 🤣

(Also, do they share a pipe?)

Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.

Oh hai, Lestrade!

That's a very respectful description of Lestrade from you Watson. By the time you wrote this had the two of you become better friends, or are you just trying to butter him up in case he comes to ask you about this story you just published in which you admit to burglary and being an accessory to murder?

“That's rather vague,” said Sherlock Holmes. “Why, it might be a description of Watson!” “It's true,” said the inspector, with much amusement. “It might be a description of Watson.”

OK. Is the amusement here because Lestrade thinks it's a ridiculous idea or is the amusement here because Lestrade sees through Sherlock's facade of innocence? It could go either way. Holmes isn't really trying to hide it very well, though.

I'm going to choose to view it as Lestrade knowing, but having no evidence to accuse them on. Mainly because I'm quite fond of Lestrade (only partially because of his portrayal by Rupert Graves) and I like to occasionally believe him capable of more than just getting things wrong. I will allow that his track record with such things in the stories is less than stellar, though. It's unclear whether ACD meant it one way or the other.

And they are protecting the identity of some unnamed noble lady. I'm sure Watson's exploding from the chivalry and adrenaline of it all.

And thus Charles Augustus Milverton died ignominiously with terrible famous last words and no one cared a jot. Even the police, really. RIP to The Worst.

[storytellingdreamer]

Watching Granada Holmes: The Norwood Builder

Image description: Watson and Holmes inspect Oldacre’s will papers. Watson has just realised something with Holmes’s help, and both are smiling because of it. / end description.

This episode is AMAZING. The Holmes/Watson content is superb, the episodic characters delightful, and the premise excellently displayed. Instantly one of my favourite episodes. Due to this it’s a long recap post. See the rest of my watching Granada Holmes content here. 

In terms of style, this episode is one for the High-Stakes Deduction category, as well as a Holmes/Watson Feels ep. And it’s also a Woman-in-Need one, albeit by proxy. 

The opening was very atmospheric, and a bit spooky (the face at the window, the bones, etc.) though the insight to 1800s firefighting practices was intriguing.

Then we arrive at Holmes and Watson the next day. Holmes is in A Mood due to, it appears, a decline in cases. Watson tries to cheer him up but he’s determined to be grumpy. 

Fortunately, there is a young man pestering Mrs Hudson for Holmes’s whereabouts... and so the new case begins! 

I must say that I love McFarlane’s characterisation. In his initial introduction, you get the impression of an earnest young man who’s fallen on hard times in some way, though he’s able to try to joke about it (that little half-smile as he says, “most unfortunate man in London”). 

Also a highlight was the tension between Lestrade and Holmes, with Watson - the snarky one-upmanship raising the pressure across the episode. Lestrade is annoyingly smug for much of the time, and rather dismissive of Holmes’s previous assistance. 

It builds on Holmes’s little rant against prisons and not being beholden to the police in Blue Carbuncle, and Holmes is deeply uncomfortable with being forced to do things Lestrade’s way whenever Lestrade dictates. 

Notice how Holmes is convinced by McFarlane’s sincerity enough to be protective of him once Lestrade arrives, despite only knowing a handful of the particulars. He in effect acts as young McFarlane’s lawyer, giving him a little reminder about “what you say now will appear in evidence against you” and such. 

And then we get to the flashback. Excellently done. 

McFarlane’s manner is very much “nervous young person fresh out of schooling/ further ed, trying to Succeed at his new job, so yes, of course I won't make a fuss when This Guy comes in with a sketchy tale, because Jobs Be Like That.” A perfect illustration of the feeling. 

Then there’s Oldacre...  Quite the eccentric man, to say the least. The way he lays out his story, and uses McFarlane’s parents to minimise McFarlane’s questions is rather suspect. 

For example, notice the way he drops the death of McFarlane’s father into the conversation as an explanation, but without even a “sorry for your loss”? 

And then at the end of the office scene, he asks that his plan be “a little surprise” for McFarlane’s mother... 

And then, after the little scene at Oldacre’s house, we end the flashback. Five full minutes well used there! At the end, another bit of character: McFarlane looks to Lestrade when he says, “I left him there!” then elaborates directly to Holmes. 

Still, Holmes only replies enigmatically, though his conversation with Lestrade reveals, to the canny viewer, where his thoughts lie... and so, after a desperate glance, McFarlane is led away. 

Holmes leads Watson through a bit of Deductive Reasoning (the second for the episode after McFarlane’s intro) as they examine the will papers. The little smiles and insights exchanged in the early part of this are delightful. Then, of course, they each have their own further points to make about particulars each have noticed (Holmes about the how of the papers, Watson about the why). 

Before it’s off to Blackheath to speak to Mrs McFarlane, McFarlane’s mother... another excellent “speaking the subtext loudly” scene, i.e. a scene that made me, as a woman, think, "say no more, I understand that subtext exactly." 

The way Mrs McFarlane describes Oldacre reminded me strongly of a person who I usually only refer to as “the ex” - in much the same way Mrs McF has tried to forget Oldacre ever existed. 

Every single word Mrs McFarlane spoke resonated. It’s why I consider this a Woman In Need by proxy plot, because Oldacre has used McFarlane in a vendetta against Mrs McFarlane. 

The how is up to Holmes and Watson to discover, though not without a degree of difficulty. 

My one quibble with the latter part of the episode is that the time-skips were a bit hard to follow. Unlike, say, Naval Treaty, where we’re eventually shown what Holmes got up to for an entire afternoon, here, we have to keep our wits about us to interpret Holmes’s “I’ll stay for a while longer” as “stay overnight”. 

The rest of the episode and its conclusion, though? Superb. 

One part that struck me, beyond the obvious: it is extremely gratifying to see Lestrade’s anger and quick action when he realises what’s really been going on. 

Now I want to talk about the second theme of the episode, and the one that punched me in the feels a bit. Holmes and Watson’s “them-ness” (as I described it in a Discord server). 

Throughout the first half of the episode, Holmes and Watson run as a well-oiled unit. 

They discuss things together (by words or an exchange of glances), 

They play off each other (see McFarlane’s introduction, where Holmes deduces and Watson explains), 

And they back each other up (see Holmes's response to Lestrade’s smugness at the house, and Watson adding to Holmes’s comment to elevate the snark). 

As usual, for the first half of the episode, it is largely Holmes leading, and Watson following. Just shy of the 26-minute mark, this begins to shift. 

Remember that Holmes has been essentially on the back foot for most of the episode, fighting to understand the case in time to save his client. “This case is not clear to me,” he says, after the initial deliberations at Baker St. 

Nearly ten minutes of run-time later, and Holmes is still just as perplexed... and beginning to doubt himself over it. “Could it be that for once Lestrade is on the right track?” he asks Watson, when they have a moment alone. 

They are interrupted before we are able to see Watson’s reaction to this. After the interview with Mrs Lexington, Holmes is still frustrated... and it is here that the shift begins to show. Watson steps up. “Holmes, would you like me to have a look at these papers?”

Holmes gives him a slightly startled look, and then Watson quotes Holmes’s own words from some other time back at him: “Well, a man’s bank account can tell us as much as his diary.”  His meaning? “I’m here for you, Holmes. Let me help.” 

Holmes accepts, with a tiny smile: “Correct. Thank you Watson.” = help accepted, with heartfelt thanks. Punch in the feels #1.

They do their separate tasks, each finding an important clue. Watson’s delight at his assistance actually finding something is lovely... but we don’t see much of their further deliberations. 

Then, the next day, we come to The Breakfast Scene. There are so many lovely moments about this one. 

Watson comes into the room to find a dishevelled Holmes sitting, staring vacantly into space. Concerned, he encourages Holmes with his words. Those don’t have the effect Watson hopes for, though they do prompt Holmes to tell him what’s wrong. 

Then comes my favourite part of this scene. Watson switches tactics and, instead of encouraging Holmes to take care of himself, starts taking care of him. And his first step in doing this is picking up Holmes’s violin and bow from the floor, to rest them gently in Holmes’s chair. 

This, for me, was the “punch in the feels #2″ moment at which I teared up (rather than, say, the moment at the table after it). The meaning of that gesture, to me, is basically, “Watson can’t hug* Holmes so he tends to the violin instead”. 

*Some people want physical space when stressed, others want physical closeness. I’m the latter, my partner the former. So I admit I’m reading into that gesture through the eyes of our relationship. 

After which, of course, he pours Holmes a cup of tea and takes the lead (for only as long as he needs to). “Let’s have breakfast and then go out together and see what we can do.” 

Holmes’s response: “I feel as if I shall need your company and moral support today.” No more saying one thing and meaning something deeper, as in the earlier part of the episode. He says the important part out loud. 

Plaid Adder has some lovely words in her review of this episode about why this scene touches her heart so deeply. I agree with her. 

Living with someone and caring for them - whether as intimate partners or intimate friends - means experiencing life, in all its ups and downs, with them. Sometimes, you lean on them, and sometimes they lean on you. And the illustration of that between Holmes and Watson in this episode, exemplified in those two moments that punched me in the feels, is a big part of why it’s now one of my favourites. 

[dathen]

He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with that catlike love of personal cleanliness which was one of his characteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as perfect as if he were in Baker Street.

CAT HOLMES REAL (also this description is adorable)

Love how I’ve been collecting all these little catlike details from his mannerisms and then Watson here is just straight-up “btw Holmes is like a cat”