#sherlock holmes (all fandoms)

[tsukihasnolife]

The Blue Carbuncle 🪿

[ponkydraws]

As one of my non-Sherlock friends expressed, it’ll always be funny how the Sherlock fandom is so obviously…the Sherlock fandom. The most detail oriented, relentless, neurodiverse, nitpicky fandom out there is the Sherlock fandom. The one fandom that lays its life down to study the microscopic details of everything the media has to offer is the Sherlock fandom. You don’t think Johnlock is canon? Here’s 177 color coded and annotated pages with specific examples, references, definitions and research we’ve deduced together. Have a read, that’s just part one.

Like. Isn’t that just so fitting??

[poet-guy]

Writing johnlock fanfic on my calculator, now I just have to see how to access ao3 from it

[clearwingedmaven]

Alright, so. I've got little time and some ideas, so I'll do a brief thought process on the death of Sherlock Holmes in 1893, and the fandom as a whole.

Firstly, getting this out of the way. Sherlock Holmes was not the first modern fandom. That honor most likely goes to Charles Dickens and his work, especially the Pickwick Papers. There is evidence and record that fan merchandise, like joke books, tobacco, and shoe horns, were made with Pickwick Papers characters, especially Sam Weller.

However, Sherlock Holmes is probably our first instance of a global fandom where consequences quite literally created a literary and cultural firestorm. This isn't an exaggeration.

ACD's relationship with Holmes is... strange. Of course, he wanted to kill off Holmes, and move onto other books. (Historical novels, mainly, or Spiritualist manifesto), but there was always a love hate relationship, and we see that most predominantly through fan letters.

Almost immediately after Holmes’s death in 1893, there was shock. Scandal. Mourning. Fans exchanged letters in newspapers, trying to reach out to other fans to figure out what just happened, and what to do next. Holmes was dead. And for all anyone knew, so was the series.

So how'd they cope?

By creating communities. Discourse communities, to be more apt. They exchanged letters, asked questions, and talked through newspapers. Each one plucked from 1893 and 1894 show grief and confusion: for a fictional character.

People even started seeking out Joseph Bell, the man who inspired Holmes, in order to try to fill the void. There's even record of fans venturing to Reichenbach Falls in costume to pay tribute to their fallen hero. And this kept happening. For years. The world lost not just a character, it was their friend.

Keep in mind! Victorian literature was a family affair. Many people would gather around and read stories and books together, so the firestorm went further.

Until, it made ACD change his mind, and bring back Sherlock Holmes. (Can we call it bullying? Perhaps. I call it a unique circumstance of cultural phenomena.)

So where does it leave the fandom?

Ah, that's the question. This fandom, uniquely, has a distinct honor of being one of the oldest living discourse communities, an exchange of reader response, engagement, and including even more material.

So to the fans: from the fanfic writers, to the game makers, to the cosplayers, to the fans of adaptations near and far, to the editors, to the artists, to the dreamers and thinkers...

It is, given the nature of the fandom, that you are all a part of history, as part of one of the oldest(and still going!) Fandom discourse communities.

Keep that in mind. And keep going. 🙂

[hopelesslyprosaic]

A Different Kind of Queen of Crime- five ways that Dorothy L Sayers changed the way we see Sherlock Holmes

For my first Holmesian post- a crossover with one of my more usual subjects on my other blog! For when one is talking about Sherlock Holmes, in particular Sherlock Holmes scholarship, there are nor many more pivotal names than Dorothy L Sayers. Sure, Christopher Morley may have had a greater impact on Sherlockian culture, and Richard Lancelyn Green on Holmesian scholarship, to name only a few- but Sayers's contributions to scholarship and "the game" were early and underratedly pivotal.

If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who is unfamiliar with Sayers's influence, or a Sayers fan who had no idea she had any interest in Holmes, keep reading! (And if you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who wants to know what I think about Sayers, check out her tag on my main blog, @o-uncle-newt. Or, more to the point, just read her fantastic books.)

There's a great compilation of Sayers's writing and lecturing on the topic of Holmes called Sayers on Holmes (published by the Mythopoeic Press in 2001), though some of her essays are also available in her collection Unpopular Opinions, which is where I first encountered them. It's not THAT extensive, and it's from an era in which Sherlock Holmes scholarship, such as it was, was still very much nascent. While a lot may have happened since Sayers was writing and talking about Holmes, she got there early and she made an immediate impact- and here's how:

She helped create and define Sherlockian scholarship: Don't take this from me, take it from the legendary Richard Lancelyn Green! At a joint conference of the Sherlock Holmes Society and Dorothy L Sayers Society, he said that "Dorothy L. Sayers understood better than anyone before her the way of playing the game and her Sherlockian scholarship gave credibility and humor to this intellectual pursuit. Her standing as an authority on the art of detective fiction and as a major practitioner invigorated the scholarship, and her...Holmesian research is the benchmark by which other works are judged. It would be fair to say, as Watson said of Irene Adler, that for Sherlockians she is the woman and that …she 'eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.'" We'll go into a bit more detail on some specific examples below, but one important one is that, as Green notes, Sayers was not only a mystery writer but an acknowledged authority on mystery fiction, whose (magisterial) introduction to The Omnibus of Crime, a then-groundbreaking history of the genre of mystery fiction, included a highly regarded section on the influence of Holmes on mystery fiction. She was able to write not just literate detective stories but literate critiques of others' stories and the genre (as collected in the excellent volume Taking Detective Stories Seriously), and as such, the writing she did on Holmes was well received.

She cofounded the (original iteration of) the Sherlock Holmes Society of London: While the current iteration of the Society lists itself as having been founded in 1951, a previous iteration existed through the 1930s, founded as a response to the creation of the Baker Street Irregulars in New York and run by a similar concept- the meeting of Sherlock Holmes fans every so often for dinner at a restaurant. Sayers, who seems to have been much more clubbable than Mycroft Holmes, helped run the Detection Club on corresponding lines as well. (Fun fact, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was invited to be the first president of the Detection Club! However, he refused on grounds of poor health and, either right before or right after he died, the Detection Club met for the first time with GK Chesterton as president.) While the 1930s society didn't last, and Sayers didn't decide to join the newly reconstituted club in 1951, her presence from the beginning was key to the establishment of Holmesian scholarship.

She helped define The Game: Sayers didn't invent The Game, as the use of Higher Criticism in the study of Sherlock Holmes came to be called. (The Game now often refers to something a bit broader than that, but it's a pretty solid working definition to say that it is the study of Holmes stories as though they took place in, and can be reconciled with, our world.) Her friend Father Ronald Knox largely invented it almost by accident- as Sayers described it, he wrote that first essay "with the aim of showing that, by those methods [Higher Criticism], one could disintegrate a modern classic as speciously as a certain school of critics have endeavoured to disintegrate the Bible." This exercise backfired, as instead of finding this analysis of Holmes stories silly, people found it compelling and engaging- and this style of Sherlockian writing lives on to this day in multiple journals. Sayers, with her interest in religious scholarship as well as Holmes, was well equipped to both understand Knox's original motivations as well as to carry on in the spirit in which further Game players would take his work, as we'll see. She also wrote the line that would come to define the tone used in The Game- that it "must be played as solemnly as a county cricket match at Lord's; the slightest touch of extravagance or burlesque ruins the atmosphere." While comedic takes on The Game would never vanish, her establishment of tone has lingered, and pretty much any in-depth explanation of The Game will include her insightful comment.

Some of Sayers's ideas became definitional: Here's a question- what's John Watson's middle name? If you said "Hamish," guess what- you should be thanking Dorothy L Sayers. (When this middle name was used for Watson in the BBC Sherlock episode The Sign of Three, articles explaining its use generally didn't bother to credit her, instead saying that "some believe" or a variation on that.) She was the one who speculated that the reason why a) Watson's middle initial is H and b) Mary Morstan Watson calls Watson "James" instead of "John" in one story is because Watson's middle name is Hamish, a Scottish variant of James, with Mary's use of James being an intimate pet name based on this nickname. It's as credible as any other explanation for that question, but more than that it became by far the most popular middle name for Watson used in fan media. Others of Sayers's ideas include that Watson only ever married twice, with his comments about experience with women over four continents being just a lot of bluster and him really being a faithful romantic who married the first woman he really fell for (the aim of this essay being to demolish HW Bell's theory of a marriage to an unknown woman between Mary Morstan and the unnamed woman Watson married in 1903, mentioned by Holmes in The Blanched Soldier); that Holmes attended Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge (she denied that he could have attended Oxford, having gone there herself- fascinatingly, Holmesians who went to Cambridge usually assert that he attended Oxford! Conan Doyle of course attended neither school); and reconciling dates in canon (making the case that one cannot base a claim for Watson's mixing up on dates on poor handwriting as demonstrated in canonical documents, as it is clear from the similarity of different handwriting samples from different people/stories that they were written, presumably transcribed for publication purposes, by a copyist).

She wrote one of the only good Holmes pastiches: Okay, fine, I'm unusually anti-pastiche, and genuinely do like very few of them, but this is one that I love- and even more than that, it's even a Wimsey crossover! On January 8 1954, to commemorate the occasion of Holmes's 100th birthday (because, of course, he was born on January 6 1854- Sayers was more in favor of an 1853 birthdate but thought 1854 was acceptable), the BBC commissioned a bunch of pieces for the radio, including one by Sayers. You can read it here (with thanks to @copperbadge for posting it, it's shockingly hard to find online), and I think you'll agree it's adorable. The idea of Holmes and Wimsey living in the same world is wonderful, the way she makes it work is impeccable, and it's clearly done with so much love. Also you get baby Peter, which is just incredibly sweet!

I got into Dorothy L Sayers, in the long run, because I loved Sherlock Holmes from childhood and that later launched me into early and golden age mysteries- but it was discovering Sayers that brought me back full force into the world of Holmes. Just an awesome lady.

[spooksicl-e]

he was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and i had become one of them… i was a whetstone for his mind. i stimulated him.

[bl4ckb1rd13]

can you tell I'm trying gif making for the first time and figuring out the file compression size took years off my life?

anyway I loved this moment in The Musgrave Ritual because Holmes' smile at the end!! he's so adorable with his emotional support blanket all huddled up and elbowing Watson like a kid AAAH I love them!!

[savequeerstories]

man i wish superwholock was still a thing because i'll tell you what, that would have been a POWERFUL bloc for getting the message out about #SaveQueerStories

[hell0mega]

I'm realizing that all of my otps are the ones that everyone agrees, and have agreed for decades, including the people who write/star in the damn thing, that they are so in gay love with each other, but because of general homophobia it just will never canonically happen. Sherlock and Watson. Kirk and Spock. Steve and Bucky. Frodo and Sam. all the ships where the writing and the narrative and the acting all create flashing neon signs that say LOVE STORY (GAY) pointed at their heads, the ones where even nonfandom normies can pick up on it, bring it up in interviews, make parodies of it. those are the ones i go insane over, because could you imagine. think about what we could've had if not for bigotry. if not for companies worried about not making as much money because of that bigotry. it makes me weep.

[krogerkryptid]

Bringing my premium jokes to tumblr dot com John and Sherlock you will always be special to me

[halfwayup]

it’s almost as if… everything is connected

[alleycatchitchat]

being in the acd Sherlock Holmes fandom is so crazy like you know how people will read hundreds of fics about their otp falling in love in slightly different universes? We get to do that but with like,, canon tv shows and stuff

[murd3rouscrow]

Do you think Sherlock stood outside John's door that night, just to make sure he was still there? Do you think he stands over John's bed, watching his chest rise and fall, just to assure he's still breathing? That he's alive? Do you think they talked about it when they got home? Do you think Sherlock hates how quickly John seems to get over it? Do you think Sherlock hates himself for letting himself snap like that? For letting John see that side of him? Do you think he thinks that John must hate him now?

Just something to think about...

[mentallyillmindmeld]

For every Sherlock adaptation that I’ve seen (which is a lot) I like at least one thing about it they’re not all perfect but they’re all fun to some degree yknow

[strawberrywinter4]

A Gentleman’s Shrine: Character Boards

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•

•

“You can’t tame a wild horse without allowing it to have free reign.”

“Sherlock has found that the captain is a severely curious man. That can be both dangerous and enticing.”

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 22 -  Ghosts

After quite a long day interviewing everyone thoroughly at the mansion, and running around after Sherlock all over the estate, John had been exhausted. The hostess had wanted to have them at her table for a formal dinner and John had actually dozed off, sitting upright at the table. He had put in his apologies and headed up to his room to prepare for sleep. In the end, it had been too late to get back to the train, so they would stay the night and head home the next morning.

Sherlock of course, had been right. The daughter was responsible for the theft and had eventually admitted to the crime and returned the jewels all before sunset. John had at least felt useful to some degree, having been the one to go and sit with her and sympathise, until she exploded into tears and admitted it all. Sherlock had lathered him with praise for his work, which felt ridiculous. It really just consisted of him being a good listener, but he would take the praise wherever it was bestowed. Especially when Sherlock was doing the praising.

He and Sherlock had been given adjoining rooms on the second floor of the mansion. There was something comforting about having his own space but also knowing Sherlock would burst through the adjoining door whenever he wanted, as he was prone to doing. He opened the French folding doors which allowed him to walk out onto a shared balcony and take in the beautiful tailored gardens below. John couldn’t imagine what life would like to be so wealthy, that you would own an estate of this size. It felt overwhelming despite its beauty. Standing there, alone, he suddenly felt a pang of sadness. They would be returning home in the morning. Back to London. Back to routine. He could already feel his chest tensing, his mind closing up. Over the last few days he had been sure that there had been… something brewing there with his flatmate. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what had changed to make him think it. Not to mention, he would never make an assumption of someone like Sherlock without actual, verbal confirmation from the detective’s mouth, but even so, it felt like things had shifted with them. Perhaps it was just a shift to a more intimate friendship in Sherlock’s eyes? They had shared more stories, more confessions, but also more physical touch. In any case, John had been enjoyed it all. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he would feel back in London being that way in public with his friend. They endured enough crap as it was. No matter how many times he told people… they never believed him. 

Not gay.

And he wasn’t. Not exclusively. Not entirely. Mind you, he thought he would simply make an effort, try to make an impression on Sherlock, show he was serious about the work and dress up a little bit. And the way Sherlock had looked at him when he came down to breakfast in his suit! But he didn’t expect the detective to wear that shirt. That was a spanner in his plan. He was pleased to see Sherlock was a little surprised by the outfit, and a little thrown, perhaps? Or maybe he was just sleep deprived too. But the man had struggled with words for the entire day. Did it mean something?

John had left Sherlock at the table to speak with their host a little longer and talk her through the next steps now that her daughter had confessed.

He undid his tie and shirt and smiled to himself, as he began to get changed for bed. The last few days had really taken a toll on him somehow though, combined with the sleep deprivation of the night before. It was time for an early night. It took him very little time to fall off to sleep in the large, very soft and comfortable bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows. He intended to sleep well.

He didn’t know how much later it was, but he awoke in the dark, with Sherlock kneeling beside him up on the bed, holding his shoulders.

“Sherlock?” he croaked out, sleepily. “What is it?” He pushed himself up a bit to be able to look at his friend who flopped his weight back to his knees with a heavy sigh. “What? What is it?”

“A nightmare, John. Or a night terror, more accurately, I’d say.”

“Oh, are you alright? Do you need me?” John asked, becoming more alert.

“Not me, John. You. You were screaming.” He swallowed loudly, his voice sounded shaken. “You were screaming my name. Over and over. I was sure you were being murdered in your bed,” Sherlock rasped out, his voice full of worry.

“Oh. God I’m sorry I don’t… I don’t know what that was even about.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to remember what he’d been dreaming about but it completely escaped him now. “I don’t… I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Sherlock said, relaxing further onto the covers. “You didn’t do it on purpose. I had to shake you awake. I hope I didn’t… hurt you?”

John shook his head as he tried to register any feeling in his body. “No. No, I’m fine.” He looked at Sherlock who seemed terrified still. Even in the dark, he seemed to be shaking slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Honestly, John. It’s fine." Sherlock straightened his shoulders, his voice sounding more calm now. "Do you really not remember what it was about?”

John looked at his lap, just breathing, trying to remember. “It’s usually just about… the war… ghosts. People I’ve lost, moments I wish I could change. The day I got shot. The day one of my friends died in my arms.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be free of those ghosts.”

Sherlock watched John for the longest time and finally put a hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry.”

John shook his head again. “Not your doing.”

“Is that why…” Sherlock cleared his throat, rethinking the question.

John raised a brow, looking at his friend who suddenly seemed unable to speak. That was very unlike him. “Why what?” “Is that why you don’t like to… make friends? Make… connections with people?” Sherlock asked.

John frowned. “I don’t think I…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I think you’re the very best friend I’ve ever had, closer than any of those blokes,” he said candidly, his brain waking up slowly. “I don’t trust people easily, that’s true. And I don’t like people because they don’t… understand me. But you do, Sherlock. I don’t think I’m… restricting myself. Not with you. And I don't need any more connections than that.” He blushed a little, knowing of course there were some things he wasn’t going to tell Sherlock, but otherwise, Sherlock had access to everything about him. “I protect you so fiercely, when we’re on a case, when people say things… because you’re my very best friend and I wouldn't be able to… survive a loss… of that,” he said honestly. He swallowed hard and flopped back onto his pillow. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’ll probably stay awake now,” Sherlock sighed. “It’s three A.M.”

John sighed. “Me too.”

As he lay there in silence he felt the bed move and Sherlock was suddenly lying down beside him, on the other pillow. He had his hands clasped together chastely on his stomach and he looked at the ceiling, not making eye contact. “We could tell ghost stories? While we wait for the sun to rise?”

John turned his head to look at Sherlock and smiled. He always knew how to cheer John up. Sherlock didn’t move his eyes from the ceiling, so John turned his head to look up at the ceiling too. There was an ornate light fixture and beautiful plaster work to observe and the moonlight made shadows that created changing patterns there. He could stare at those and keep his eyes away from his friend lying beside him. “Okay. You go first, though,” John suggested.

“Okay,” Sherlock said with a smile and so he began.

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