#sherlock holmes x reade

[littlefreya]

Thank you for the reblog 😻

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

Keep reading

[janeiscompletelyfine]

!!

GUYS I just watched the first episode of BBC Sherlock and oh. fuck.

Did they just-- I mean, canonically-- because they're-- but they actually said the words "do you have a boyfriend then"-- and nobody even-- in the books they were so-- but all the other versions-- what in the world-- guys--

jane.exe has broken.

Please tell me they kiss.

❤️ Jane

[ohrival1412]

"Shinichi and Hakuba after their Sherlock Holmes fanfictions are discovered" tHANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST HAHAH

@zaharex here are Hakuba E-8 and Shinichi G-8 !

[vargdottern]

girls don't want much, they just want their favorite mlm ships to be canon

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

You asked for reqs so Im here to yap! How about Mycroft from Sherlock having a gf that is constantly overthinking if he actually likes her(if he is with her for some reason where he can take advantage of her later, even tho as far as she knows, she has no connection to anything political that he can use. She still can't stop thinking about it tho.)

Him comforting her awkwardly bc he literally can't say any affirming words coherently, just actions that you'd have to look for under a microscope to notice, but they are there! He does let her brew and feel bad for quite some time unintentionally because he is very avoidant of emotional confrontations tho🥹

Do feel free to ignore this if it isn't your cup of tea! Mwah💋

An Affair of Logic and Love

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Mycroft x reader

________________________________________________________

Mycroft Holmes wasn’t a man of romance. That much was obvious to anyone who knew him. Reserved, calculating, and perpetually aloof, he approached the world as a chessboard, his every move measured, every relationship dissected for utility. Yet here he was, seated across from you at his immaculate dining table, sipping his tea as if nothing in the world could rattle him.

And here you were, trying to decipher his every blink, every sigh, every sip.

You glanced at him cautiously. Did he even like you? Or was there some hidden reason—a grand strategy that somehow involved you, though you couldn’t imagine how? You were an ordinary person, far removed from the tangled webs of politics and espionage he navigated daily. What could he possibly gain from being with you?

These thoughts gnawed at you, louder with each interaction, until every small silence felt like proof that you were merely a pawn in his game.

“You’re staring,” Mycroft said without looking up from his tea.

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

You fumbled for a distraction, taking a sip of your tea and nearly scalding your tongue. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking, I see.” He folded his hands and leaned back slightly. “Should I be concerned?”

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to confront him, to demand why he was with you if he could barely muster a word of affection. But the other part—the overthinking, self-doubting part—was too afraid of his answer. What if he confirmed your fears?

“No,” you muttered, looking down at your cup.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. But true to form, he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he let the silence stretch, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts.

For the next several days, the doubts consumed you. Every interaction became a puzzle to solve:

• When he handed you a cup of tea without a word, was it a sign of affection, or was he just being polite?

• When he mentioned your favorite book in passing, was it because he genuinely remembered, or because he needed to lull you into a false sense of security?

• When he kissed you on the cheek before leaving for work, was it out of habit or obligation?

The questions were endless, and Mycroft, in his typical manner, did nothing to alleviate them. He wasn’t cruel—far from it—but his reserved nature and avoidance of emotional discussions left you in the dark.

It all came to a head one evening when you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Mycroft,” you began hesitantly as the two of you sat in his living room, him reading a newspaper and you pretending to focus on a book.

“Yes?” he replied without looking up.

“Why are you with me?”

The question hung in the air like a thunderclap. Mycroft froze, his fingers tightening slightly around the edges of the paper.

“Pardon?” he said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral.

You set your book down and turned to face him fully. “Why are you with me? I just… I can’t help but wonder if there’s some reason—some ulterior motive—because I don’t understand why you’d choose me.”

He finally lowered the newspaper, his expression inscrutable. “Is that what’s been troubling you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I know it’s irrational, but I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re so… you. And I’m just… me. It doesn’t make sense.”

For a long moment, Mycroft said nothing. He looked at you, his sharp gaze scanning your face as if you were a particularly challenging code to crack.

Then, finally, he spoke: “I see.”

That was it. I see.

You stared at him, waiting for more, but he just shifted slightly in his seat, as if the conversation had already concluded.

“That’s all you have to say?” you asked, your frustration bubbling over.

Mycroft cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I… hadn’t realized you felt this way.”

“Well, I do.”

He looked down at his hands, his usually unshakeable composure faltering ever so slightly. “Emotions are… not my area of expertise,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “But I assure you, my intentions are entirely genuine.”

It wasn’t the grand declaration you’d hoped for, but coming from Mycroft, it was monumental. Still, it wasn’t enough to banish your doubts entirely.

“Then why don’t you ever show it?” you pressed. “Why can’t you just say how you feel?”

Mycroft shifted again, clearly wrestling with his discomfort. “I’m not… accustomed to such expressions,” he said stiffly. “But that does not mean I don’t care for you. On the contrary, I—” He stopped, his mouth opening and closing like he was physically incapable of forming the words.

Instead, he stood abruptly and walked to his desk. You watched in confusion as he opened a drawer, pulled out a small velvet box, and returned to the couch.

He handed it to you without a word.

Inside was a delicate necklace, the pendant a simple yet elegant design that you immediately recognized—it was based on your favorite flower, something you’d mentioned in passing months ago.

“I had this made for you,” Mycroft said awkwardly, his gaze fixed firmly on the coffee table. “I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you. I suppose now will have to do.”

You stared at the necklace, your heart swelling with a mix of surprise and warmth.

“Mycroft…”

“I may not be able to express myself in the traditional sense,” he continued, his voice stiff but earnest. “But I do care for you. Deeply. If that were not the case, I wouldn’t—” He stopped himself again, sighing in frustration. “I wouldn’t have allowed this relationship to happen.”

It wasn’t a perfect confession. It wasn’t romantic or poetic. But it was Mycroft.

You smiled softly and reached out to take his hand. “Thank you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He finally looked at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said gruffly.

[j-eryewrites]

I’m on vacation right now in Denmark and I found this gem. Coincidence? I think not. I feel like should I go visit.

Maybe I’ll find our consulting detective and talk some sense into him about Y/N😂

[rorapostsbl]

i recently came across the hound of the baskervilles. on my last chapter, do NOT spoil it 😭 but the relationship between sherlock holmes and dr. watson is — dare i say so — adorable 😭🥺⁉️

holmes refers to him as, “my dear watson” which led my bl-filled mind to search them up on AO3. to my absolute surprise, guess what i found?? THOUSANDS OF FANFICTIONS OF THEM TOGETHER 😭😭

then, i searched on tumblr. guess wHAT AGAIN?? THERE ARE SO MANY CUTE ARTWORKS ON/ABOUT THEM 😭⁉️

[fbfh]

do you still write for jj?

ooooh not only do I write for JJ but I kiss you on both cheeks for giving me an excuse to talk about one of my favorite obscure JJ thoughts. JJ x ballerina!reader (gn so technically ballet dancer reader, but you do dance pointe and in a more feminine style in pas de deux so do with that what you will)

They thought you were a kook for the first few summers since you clearly went to school off the island. It turns out you're not, you're just a scholarship kid to whatever fancy school you go to (something that Pope LOVES to pick your brain about since he's dying for a scholarship to his dream college)

at some point or another, there's a hurricane. you end up sticking it out with the other pogues. that's when they notice how... weirdly flexible you are. especially JJ. mostly JJ. it started off small, with you stretching a little while you guys are hanging out in the aftermath since the day after a hurricane is always a free day. JJ looked away from you for like two seconds and you just fuckin... dropped into a perfect split. he's surprised by this obviously, but he's more surprised when you seamlessly shift to a split on the other side, then a center split, bending and moving with impossibly flexibility. then a moment later, you're asking him "hey can you grab my leg?" as you stand up and stretch into a scorpion/needle pose. soon you're dragging him out of the room to "help you with something else." he FULLY thinks yall are about to hook up, but instead you put on this beautiful, artsy, erratic piano music, kick off your sandals or sneakers or whatever, and begin moving like a fucking vision.

you're rambling to him while you dance like it's nothing, but his jaw is on the fucking floor.

"This is the solo I learned last semester," you chuckle while spinning like a little figurine atop a music box, or something in a snow globe, or... wherever else he's seen ballerinas in passing before.

"If I'm rusty by the time I get back, Miss Raine will kill me." you chuckle playfully.

after a few moments, you finish, posed delicately on the ground. you look up at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glistening with mirth.

"holy fucking shit," he exclaims, making you blush. "goddamn, princess, that-"

he trails off with a disbelieving chuckle.

"That was fuckin' incredible," he says with a breathy laugh, then nudges you playfully, looking at you more closely like he must have missed something all those times he looked at you and never saw this magical ballet fairy hiding inside you. "you've been holdin' out on me." he teases.

"okay, okay, here's where I need your help." you begin, trying not to get too distracted. you reach out and grab his wrist, holding out his left arm palm up. "I'm gonna run at you like this-"

you demonstrate, taking a step forward. his attention is locked onto you even harder from the moment you grab his arm.

"And kinda... kick my leg around," you do just that, so you're twisted around and facing away from him. he lets out a little noise of surprise. you know it must seem convoluted and ridiculous, but you really need help practicing this lift.

"I need you to wrap your arm around me like this," you say, bending forward with one leg extended behind you, the other supporting you, so your stomach rests on his bicep and his hand holds the small of your back. "And then place your other hand right on my ribcage here."

"oh, my hand will be wherever you want it, cupcake." he says, making you roll your eyes at the (only half joking) innuendo.

"okay." you say, taking a step back. "you ready?"

the first few times you walk through it together are clumsy and slow, a mess of limbs and giggles, but eventually you get it. you call your friends in to show them the bluebird lift you've been working on, even having successfully taught JJ how to lower you and do a few basic steps with you to conclude. you both get through it unscathed, and your friends reactions are very similar to JJ (with only slightly less innuendo and teasing from John B and Pope), and as JJ giggles and demands you come at him so he can lift you again, you start to see a lot of potential in him.

maybe, just maybe, you can shape that potential a little more over the summer. your ballet academy always has scholarships for boys available since they're always in demand in the performing arts. you think there might just be a chance for JJ to do a lot more lifts with you.

[forgetriestowrite]

if screenwriters and tv show people don’t want us to ship two characters then why do they make it so easy?

[gregorovitch-adler]

Fireworks

Sherlock never understood the tradition of kissing someone at midnight on New Year's Eve. He didn't understand a lot of traditions, actually, especially when they had to do with romance.

John, on the other hand, was extremely excited about it. He had been waiting for it to be midnight for a couple of hours now. Even Mariana had rolled her eyes at that.

Anyway, there they were. Standing on the rooftop of 221 Baker Street, waiting for the clock to strike twelve.

Having been in a relationship together for six months, now, meant they had to bear with John's bouts of energy once in a while.

Mariana was on Sherlock's right side, and John had taken the other one.

The three of them had just been gazing at the sky and had been talking about nothing in particular.

Suddenly, Mariana was shivering a lot, even with her thick coat.

Sherlock unzipped his black jacket and pulled Mariana close by her shoulder to be able share the jacket with her. Well, try to, at least.

Now Sherlock was shivering too. "Is-is it midnight already?" he asked John.

John had been staring at his wristwatch for a whole minute now. "Seven more seconds! Ok, now, five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!"

The whole sky was slowly being covered with fireworks. Apparently, the whole Westminster was at it tonight. Some bursting sounds from a distance made Sherlock adjust his ear defenders properly.

John grabbed his face and pressed his lips against Sherlock's. Sherlock placed a hand on John's jawline to kiss him back. He could feel John smile into the kiss.

Even in the midst of chaos and uncomfortably loud sounds, Sherlock found peace and love in John's sweet kisses.

Not all traditions were stupid, he figured.

Sherlock stepped back, and Mariana walked over to John.

Sherlock zipped his jacket back up as he watched John and Mariana kiss under the beautiful night sky.

His face formed a smile on its own.

John and Mariana broke off the kiss, and now it was Sherlock's turn to kiss her.

Mariana came over to Sherlock again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they both began to kiss each other.

Sherlock would never get tired of the feeling of her soft mouth on his own. He grabbed her waist as they continued to kiss.

Mariana shivered violently, and that's when they had to stop.

"We really need to go back to the flat," said Sherlock, and the three of them laughed.

Mariana decided to hug Sherlock after that.

John walked over to join in.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana were holding each other quietly for a long moment.

They stepped back and broke it off.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana turned around to get back to 221 B to feel more comfortable together, all with the excitement of the new year and new beginnings waiting for them at the doorstep.

**

Prompt: Fireworks by @fluff-cember

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @keirgreeneyes @topsyturvy-turtely @totallysilvergirl @gaylilsherlock @calaisreno @peanitbear @chriscalledmesweetie , etc.

A. N. : Now it's finally over. Thanks a lot for reading my stories, everyone! It was a fun challenge. Hope to come back here with my new writing piece soon. :D

Happy New Year!

[shmowder]

Begging you to please do something with a Sherlock reader x daniil if you ever feel like doing more for that!! Because that sounds tasty!!

Starts as a rivalry, what kind of academic would Dankovsky be if he doesn't instantly gauge the qualifications of everyone he meets and compare them against his own standings. You don't need to be an academic overachiever; Holmes wasn't.

But you can't hide genius for long, your wit has a way of showing itself sooner rather than later. A little too-informed of a medical comment slipping past your lips here, a too crisp of a foreign word pronunciation there, arriving at the gates of logic faster than Daniil has time to blink at the first sign of a conundrum facing your way.

He's... intimidated, feigning skepticism to hide his true emotions. This random person in this backwaters town couldn't possibly be his equal... could you?

Well, Daniil's not wrong. You're not his equal.

You're so much more than that. Leagues above him, to be exact.

He tests you, subtly. Baits more knowledge out of you with trailing off comments and open-ended sentences that might resemble a question if you squint. Lowering the filter he deliberately uses whenever speaking to the commonfolks, much like a city lowers its gates. Going into the nity-grity of technical terms and medical phrases.

Speaking to you with the indifference of a colleague in his field. The training wheels are off, no more watered-down latin and simplified terminology. It's a challenge, a rawr. Meant to intimidate the ignorant and beckon the knowing.

You survive the tiral by fire, much to his displeasure. You're not a doctor, not even in the medical field, least of all a graduate from a prestigious academy. He checked behind your back, double-checked, hell triple checked.

A chemist student, that was your highest credential.

You're polite, exceptionally well-mannered, albeit with bursts of unexpected bluntness. You do tend to corner people in lies, make them trip over their own words, when you deem them a suspect in a crime of some form, no matter how trivial.

It was impossible for him not to like you, a person right after his own heart. Daniil was so slow to trust you, but when he did, he fell hard.

Suddenly, he's making trips to and from your place of residence, running his every discovery and paper under your watchful gaze.

You never antagonise or belittle him for not knowing. In fact, you're always so eager to help. Welcoming his little "puzzles" is what you tend to call them. Daniil, let's it slide. Sure, his lifework is a mere puzzle to you. That's at least one step above the heresy and pseudoscience accusations usually thrown at him.

Your input is invaluable, not because you reinvent the wheel or unearth a solution from underground. No, it's priceless because of how obvious the answer was in hindsight. Once you point out what needs to be done or what the logical next course of actions should be, it becomes so apparent that Daniil can't believe he ever missed it to begin with.

Your methods are reasonable and sound, exercising critical thinking. You're not a magician. You don't wave around a wand or credit debatable extraterrestrial sources. You explain your line of thought to him whenever he asks, and he can't help but be impressed each and every time at how using simple differental methods and basic deduction skills untangled this web-like mess he found himself in.

Now he's hyperaware of how he's presenting himself to you, of the stray hairs stubbornly refusing to cooperate atop his head, of that mispronounced latin word he rushed out, of the messy handwriting on the letter he sent you.

Cursing his past self for starting off on the wrong foot, for looking a gift horse in the mouth. He should've been celebrating when he found a single reasonable individual in this town instead of grilling you with passive-aggressive intellectual tests.

Bless your benevolent mind, for you don't seem to hold his past hostility against him. It was entertaining for you, a nice brain exercise, you were growing bored in this sleepy town.

You even admit to finding it a little endearing, a little... cute.

Him, being called "cute" The Bachelor wouldn't have let this slide if it came from anyone else's mouth, but because it was you, Daniil didn't find himself minding.

Against his better judgement, he beamed a little inside at your praise. Cute, smart, whatever. He tried not to let it show just how being in your good graces lifted his spirits up.

Soon enough, the two of you grew inseparable at the hip. You letting your curiosity lead you into the next adventure, Daniil hurrying after you because he's aware of how much of a danger-magnet you tend to be—like really, how could a single person get shot so many times? Clever as you are, he could never understand how you thought it's a sensible idea to confront wrong-doers at the scene of the crime, red handed, without any reinforcement, and expect criminals to peacefully surrender when faced with your foolproof logic.

Other times, it's Daniil dragging you from place to place. Energised steps and a never-stopping chatter as he inquires about your input on every little thing. Boasting about his discoveries, looking from the corner of his eyes to make sure you're watching when he performs his doctorly duties.

Anyone who sees him interact with you can easily tell how star-struck Daniil is at your presence, how he holds himself a little higher, and his back straighter. Eyes shining as he soaks in your every word, treasuring every little nugget of wisdom.

For someone who finds himself at a total disinterest with 99% of the people he meets on the daily, who always has acquaintances but never friends, who's in the medical field for the science solely, it's nothing short of a miracle that Daniil found someone he genuinely likes.

He can confidently claim that you are the closest thing to perfection a human could ever aspire to.

Until, one seemingly uneventful afternoon, a gap in your knowledge was abruptly uncovered in the most unexpected way.

And the culprit responsible?

A quote

A simple stupid philosophy quote he recited out of habit, answering one of Eva's daily musings.

Sprawled on the couch like a cosy cat, voicing her wanderings out loud. Times were simpler before, she explained as she recalls her years of childhood fondly.

"I believe Thomas Carlyle said it best," Daniil answered, sitting on the far desk as usual, adjusting the microscope's wheels as he exaimed the same samples Rubin sent, "the past is always attractive because it is drained of fear."

The melodic sound of the violin in the background came to a halt, a faded note that lost itself between the strings. You turned away from the window you were facing, looking at the two of them.

"Who?" You inquired in the naivest way, making him pause.

"I'm sorry? who is... what?" Daniil replied.

"That Thomas fellow you just quoted, who is he?"

Are you messing with him? You had to be.

The chair creeked as Daniil shot up, turning towards you with a concerned gaze. Comedy was never one of your strong fortes, but even you surely understand how juvenile of a joke it is to pretend not to know the leading philosopher and writer of the victorian era.

"What has he done exactly?" You added as the silence stretched awkwardly. Your eyes held nothing but sincerity, authenticity dripped from your very being.

Remarkable, truly, remarkable.

In an instant, Daniil was at your side, almost cornering you against the wall as he coaxed the violin out of your arms.

Testing you on literature, philosophy, astronomy, and politics. Every common piece of knowledge he could recall.

He couldn't believe what's happening.

Nill, your information on all the topics listed above is absolutely zero. You were completely oblivious and ignorant to even the most basic of high-school level knowledge.

His surprise reached a climax, however, when he found that you're ignorant of the Copernican Theory and the Solar System composition.

The fact that any civilized human being in this century isn't aware that the earth travelled around the sun, appeared to him nothing short of extraordinary, he could barely actualise it.

“You appear to be astonished,” you said, smiling at his dumbfounded expression. “Now that I do know it, I shall do my best to forget it.”

“To forget it...?" Daniil's voice came in a desperate whisper.

“You see,” you explain, “I consider a man’s brain like a little empty attic, one to stock with furniture of your choosing. Only a fool takes in all the lumber of every sort he may come across, rendering it clogged, crowding out all the knowledge of true use to him. Or, at best, it gets entangled and jumbled with different threads."

Your hand rests against his chest, palm flat against his hammering heart.

"So that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it." You continued, "Now, the skilful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the best tools that may help him in doing his work, but of these, he has a large assortment and all in the most perfect order. It's a mistake to think that the little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend upon it. There comes a time when, for every addition of knowledge, you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

“But the Solar System—” Danill protested.

“What the deuce is it to me?” You interrupted impatiently: “you say that we go around the sun—If we went around the moon, it would still not make a penny worth of difference to me or to my work.”

With a simple push of your palm, you coaxed him back into his chair, to which Daniil immediately surrendered. Picking up the antique violin, you resume where you left off.

The sound of Eva's giggling at this interaction came soon after, as the familiar music of your instrument echoed through the Stillwaters.

[sakshi-s-blog]

Where Love And Lies Entwine

By Sakshi_S

Summary:

After 3 weeks of silence, John visits Baker Street, only to find Sherlock living with a woman. Jealousy hits hard, but Sherlock has moved on—or has he? That night after his first time with a woman, a realisation strikes him - Am I falling for her? To answer, he must revisit how it all began... Thirty days ago, Sherlock found himself a case that would shake the UK's criminal underworld. Sherlock finds the client 'intriguing'.

Back in the present, John wonders –Is Shruti here to 'stay' ?

Part 1 of A Study in Love and Deduction Series

NOW COMPLETE!

Part 4 of the series "Canvas of us" Has many artworks too!

[brilliantorinsane]

I have been successfully resisting the impulse to start a sub-series where I attempt a queer reading of the case in each 1954 Sherlock Holmes episode. Not because I think they're all secretly queer-coded (though I straight up do think a handful of them are)—I just think it would be a fun thought-exercise, and I'm curious how many I could pull off a reading for.

That being said, without even trying I have stumbled into queer reads of three of the first five cases which is. More than I expected.

[221bug]

Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes Chapter One (Video Game), Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Molly Hooper Additional Tags: Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, 1890s, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love at First Sight, john makes a good psychiatrist, Jon is a little evil, Sherlock needs a friend, I claim no historical accuracy, or psychiatric care accuracy Summary:

“I assure you, many children have imaginary friends, it is perfectly normal, I’m sure he will grow out of it in time.” Dr. Richter replied He was supposed to grow out of it and yet fourteen years later, Sherlock was breaking into an archaeological dig site because Jon said ‘there would be clues there.’ - Mycroft is worried about the influence Sherlock's imaginary friend, Jon, is having on his life, so he sends him to a psychiatric hospital. There Sherlock meets Dr. John Watson, who looks remarkably similar to Jon. And has kind eyes. And knows Brahms. And maybe, just maybe Sherlock could imagine opening up to him. But in order to let someone in, Sherlock himself must first confront the gatekeeper of all his deepest fears and insecurities.

[edwardallenpoe]

Hullo dearest! Please tell us about your thoughts on the several cowardly versions of Sherlock Holmes?? 💛

:v

Well then. I suppose I have been forced to, woe is me.

Anyways. The ONLY acceptable adaption I will not be shitting on is Granada. I love u Jeremy Brett 😘 as for everyone else, they are COWARDS!!!!

First reason why they're cowards, being the obvious reason:

Johnlock

(pt: Johnlock)

Not letting Sherlock and John get together. COWARDS. So many adaptions and only, like, one that I know of let them be together??? (That being this amazing short film I watch ten times a day) And it would be different if they let their relationship just be and let them be platonic while still letting them have that familiar depth like in Sherlock & co., but NO, shows like Sherlock BBC and The Irregulars tease and queerbait to hell and back, and even make the one of them queer and in LOVE with the other (like in The Irregulars, John is in love with Sherlock but as far as I know, doesn't tell him because he's unstable or smt idfk) but they don't get together for one convoluted reason or another. It's frustrating as hell because it's not like there was no substance between the two in ACD/Original canon, it's not like the TJLC invented it bc of Sherlock BBC or the RDJ Adaption, no, their relationship was so deep and so real and so beautiful in ACD canon and if there is gonna be an adaption where their relationship stays the same, that's fine, perfect even, but NO, they add extra bullshit that make you think there might be something and then give unreasonable reasons why they can't be together, making you feel like YOUR the weird one for seeing something that wasn't there apparently.

Reason number two why I find most of these adaptions cowards:

Irene Adler

(pt: Irene Adler)

For some reason, every single adaption (except for my love, Granada<3) they fuck her up. Like. ACD Irene Adler vs BBC, RDJ, Enola, ect. Irene Adler are not the same Irene Adler. Who is she????? Because the Irene Adler I heard in The Scandal In Bohemia, was an upper class woman who had an affair with the king of [Forgor lol] and kept the photo of them together as collateral when he ditched her and tried to get married to a princess.

The Irene in these adaptions??? She's a trickster, a Dominatrix, an Assassin, the Lover of Moriarty, and INSANELY IN LOVE WITH SHERLOCK HOLMES. what the FUCK

Like. Please please please someone correct me if I'm wrong, but is there another Irene Adler in the ACD canon??? Who is all these things?? Because when I watched Granada, when I read the story, and now listening to the audiobook (which, off-topic, found a playlist of free audiobooks of all the short stories on YouTube with a fantastic narrator here) The Woman described in these stories, yes can be secretive and sneaky, but was NEVER fucking like RDJ or BBC's level of Irene Adler. It kinda feels like they just picked whatever character they wanted to make a Pandora out of (which is doubly weird that BBC made Mary Morstan like that when they had Irene but I barely acknowledged post season two canon outside of @gaylilsherlock 's fantastic fics, plus they almost completely left ACD canon after Reichenbach which I don't really mind, but post-reichenbach is a whole other post) instead of making their own character. So I find them cowardly for a) not making Irene at least semi-accurate to the canon besides a tiny photo (even tho canon photo was a FUCKING CANVAS- okay I'll stop) and b) not making up a new fleshed out character of her own to be a secret spy.

And uhhhh I can't think of anything else rn. Yeah:D I would complain about Sherlock & Co. But because it's not finished yet and I like how they're treating Sherlock and John's relationship and also them as their own individual characters I don't have too much to complain about, and I would complain about Irregulars but I could not get past the first five episodes. I just couldn't get into it. It kinda felt like they made a whole story that just so happened to have Sherlock Holmes characters in it. Idk tho.

Tldr: Johnlock and Irene Adler deserved better.

(pt: tldr: Johnlock and Irene Adler deserved better.)

[snadwich-underscore]

sherlock and little watson :-)