#what's he supposed to do with fake scenarios of Charles hitting on him in the most ridiculous ways possible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanficsandthings · 5 years

Text

Interrupted

Modern!Crutchie Morris x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Crutchie tries to tell you his true feelings.

Author’s note: This is the first request I’ve ever written, and I’m so sorry that it took me so long to write. I’ll try to get better at writing faster.

Crutchie sat on a bench, watching a few of his friends run around the worn out baseball field. The park field was a good place to practice when they all were younger, but it wasn’t regulation size, making it much easier to hit a homerun now that they were well into their teens. The field became a hangout spot as they got older; a good place to reminisce. Jack and Albert loved coaching the neighborhood kids here after practice. The kids’ real coaches wondered how they got so much better, but they kept their secrets to themselves.They didn’t want to share their new found skills with the rest of the junior team.

Crutchie turned his attention to a person sitting on the other side of the field. You were sitting on a blanket in the grass. Your legs were stretched out in front of you, arms leaning behind you for support. JoJo, who was sitting beside you, had apparently just said something funny, as you threw your head back laughing, the sun radiating warmth off your skin.

Charles Morris knew he was in love a long time ago. The feeling sat inside him, blooming for years. It was back when he was still embarrassed of his crutch, and everyone still called him Charlie. Over the years, he learned to live with his disability, deciding to embrace the name his friends now called him. Now, everyone just called him Crutchie, even his adoptive parents sometimes. Everyone but one person. The person sitting on a blanket just over 100 feet away, glowing from the sunlight shining on them. You still called him Charlie, and when you did, it was the most beautiful sound Crutchie knew of in the known universe.

It’s now or never, Crutchie thought to himself. He was going to tell you. It had been too many years, and seeing you right now, like this; it made him weak. You looked absolutely beautiful, talking to JoJo and Katherine about who knows what. It was a normal day to any other, but to Crutchie, it was the day he told his best friend that he was in love with them.

Crutchie stood up from the bench, situating his crutch under his arm. He was halfway across the baseball field when his eyes finally caught yours. You smiled and waved at him, whispering something to Katherine, but your eyes stayed on him. To Crutchie, it all seemed to happen in slow motion. Like a scene in a movie that lead up to the most important event in the plot. He watched you push some hair off your forehead, lean back on your arms again, and wiggle your feet so your shoes bumped against each other a few times.

That’s when the record scratch sounded, cutting off the music over the slow motion, pulling everyone back into the real world. Jack stepped in front of Crutchie, waving an old baseball in his hand.

“You haven’t touched a ball all day, Crutch,” Jack said, putting his hand that wasn’t carrying the ball on Crutchie’s shoulder. “I’ll try to teach you how to pitch again, if you like.”

“Jack,” Crutchie sighed, looking over Jack’s shoulder at you, your attention now fully back to JoJo and Katherine. “I’ve already told you, I don’t have the balance to be a good pitcher. I can throw a ball, sure, but I can’t pitch worth crap.”

“Fine then,” Jack said, “let’s play some catch. We haven’t had a full on conversation in a few days. I’d like to know how you’ve been.”

Crutchie looked between you and Jack quickly. Hopefully, quick enough that Jack wouldn’t notice. Jack knew about the crush Crutchie had on you. How could he not? He didn’t hide it very well, and Jack was one of his best friends. Crutchie decided that talking to Jack right now might actually be a good idea. He hadn’t even thought about what he would say to you, and now maybe Jack could give him some advice.

“Okay,” Crutchie said, grabbing the ball from Jack’s hand. “Let’s talk.”

As they walked to the side of the field, Crutchie looked back at you. Your focus was now back on him as he walked the opposite direction. You gave him a questioning look, wondering what changed his plans to come over to you. He just shrugged in response, giving you a small smile. He needed to tell you how he felt, but that could wait for a different day.

The talk with Jack had gone well, Crutchie thought. Jack suggested it might be best to tell you his feelings when there were less people around. That way there was less of a chance for interruption, and you wouldn’t feel pressured from other people watching you and listening to what you were saying.

Crutchie was sitting on the trunk of your car, waiting for you after school. He knew you came out to your car to drop off your backpack and grab a change of clothes before rehearsal. He was trying to figure out the right words to say, running through scenarios in his head.

“Charlie?” Crutchie popped his head up at the sound of you saying his name. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside helping Jack with the set?” You threw your backpack in the passenger seat of your car, then moved to the backseat to grab the clothes you had left there.

He shrugged his shoulders and carefully hopped down from your car onto his good leg. He grabbed his crutch from where it sat on the trunk. “I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He avoided looking at you, for fear you might look up and see how nervous he was. “Kinda important stuff.”

You stood up straight, clothes hugged tight to your body. It was rare that you ever saw Crutchie act like this. Your name was called from across the parking lot. You and Crutchie both turned to look at who was yelling.

“I’m not gonna stand here forever. Hurry up, we’re gonna be late.” It was Race. He was holding the automatically locking door open for you, and he was getting slightly annoyed.

You called back to him. “We’re coming. You can wait an extra damn minute.” You turned your attention back to Crutchie, who was eyeing Race with annoyance. You gave him a sympathetic look and a small smile. “Can what you were gonna say wait until later? I don’t want Medda to be mad that we’re late.”

Crutchie let out a breath, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. He hadn’t even realized that they were stiff. He couldn’t stay annoyed at anyone when he was around you. “Yeah. It can wait, I suppose. It’s only kinda important, not super important.”

“Let’s go then,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him across the parking lot as fast as his crutch would allow him to go.

Crutchie half scowled at Race as the two of you walked past him into the building. He was trying his hardest to get his feelings out, but he kept getting interrupted by his friends. If the universe was trying to tell him something, he wasn’t going to listen. You deserved to know how he felt, and he needed to let these ever growing feelings escape.

Crutchie decided he’d tell you after rehearsal. He had been helping Jack paint fake brick on a fake building when he looked up to see you across the stage. You were running through lines with Sarah, and you looked so into the scene he couldn’t help but smile at you. He knew then that he had to tell you as soon as possible.

He knew not to let his feelings out while you were driving down the road. He didn’t want you to have no chance for escaping, just in case you didn’t feel the same way he did. He wanted you to be free to leave if you needed to.

When you put the car in park in his driveway, Crutchie let out a deep breath. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, but kept his head facing forward. “Can we talk now? You know, about stuff?”

“You can talk to me about anything at anytime,” you told him, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath in. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking lately about a lot of things. One of those things has been you.” Crutchie wasn’t sure if you had heard the end of his sentence, as your phone started ringing.

You looked to see who was calling. “It’s JoJo,” you stated.

“You can answer it,” Crutchie said. He looked a little defeated. On the inside he felt devastated. What did he have to do to get people to stop interrupting him?

“Are you sure?” you asked, your face showing that you were skeptical. “You were saying something.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s getting late, and I should go do homework anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Crutchie got out of your car, the feeling of dread weighing heavy on his shoulders. You had already answered the phone when he turned to say goodbye, so he just waved at you and shut the door. You waved back and mouthed the word ‘bye’ back to him through the window. Crutchie walked into his house slowly. He really wasn’t sure how he was going to tell you now.

The rest of week passed by slowly. Crutchie never found another good time to bring his feelings up to you. Friday came, and a few people agreed to meet at Jack’s to hang out.

You were sitting in front of the tv, playing some video game with Race and Albert. Race was losing, and he wasn’t very happy about it.

“One of you has got to be cheating,” Race said. He pushed you with his shoulder to try to mess you up.

“No, you just suck. Anyone could beat you.” You stood up as you won the game, and handed the controller to Elmer. “Even Elmer will beat you.” Elmer rolled his eyes as he took your place on the couch.

You walked over to Crutchie, who was sitting in a chair in the corner. Sitting on the arm of the chair, you asked “Don’t you want to play?” He didn’t answer, seemingly staring at nothing instead. “Charlie? Hello?

His eyes shifted to look at you, a small smile appearing on his face as he noticed you. “Huh?”

You nodded your head towards the boys sitting on the couch. “Do you wanna play?”

He shook his head. “I’m good here.”

You sat in silence for a while, watching Race lose against Elmer and Albert. You remembered something, and touched Crutchie’s hand to get his attention again. His fingers twitched from the sensation of your’s brushing his skin. He looked at you with a curious expression.

“You’ve been trying to tell me something all week,” you reminded him.

His face turned a slight shade of red. “It’s more of a private thing.”

You nodded your head and looked around the room at the other boys. Jack was looking at the two of you from the other side of the room. You grabbed Crutchie’s hand and pulled him to stand up. “We’ll go talk in private, then.”

You pulled him into the kitchen where no one was at the moment. He stood leaning against the counter, his eyes avoiding looking at you.

He started to speak. “I-- uh, I guess I’ve been thinking about you lately.”

“About me?”

“Well, technically, about us. Like, the relationship we have.”

Race called your name from the living room. You ignored it at first, but then it was said a second time, louder. Crutchie’s eyes were closed, and he was taking in a deep breath, like he was trying to calm himself. Race started to shout something more, but Crutchie cut him off.

“Race! Shut up. I’m trying to tell them something. Give us a goddamn minute.”

Race’s annoyed mumbles could be heard from the other room, but he didn’t yell anything more at you.

Crutchie turned to look at you. “I’ve been trying to tell you all week, but I keep getting interrupted. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?” you asked him, touching your hand to his arm.

“Sorry that I haven’t told you sooner.” He averted his eyes again, instead focussing his attention to study something on his crutch.

“Charlie?” you asked, softly. You move your hand down to lightly hold his.

“I love that you still call me that.” He moved the hand that was in yours to hold yours tighter. “And I also love you. I love you more than just friends.”

Your body stiffened slightly. You really didn’t know what to say. Crutchie had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You grew up together. You had never really thought about being more than friends with him, but now that you knew how he felt your mind was starting to think about it.

Your heart was beating faster as your eyes scanned Crutchie’s face. His skin was tinted red, and his eyes avoided your gaze. He was nervous, and probably slightly embarrassed. Most of his friends were just a few feet away in the next room, and here he was, confessing his feelings to someone who he thought was going to turn him down.

You started to speak, softly. “Charlie… I’m sorry—“

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. I just needed to tell you. I needed to not let it fester anymore.” Now he was sure you were turning him down. He let go of your hand, and you could see his eyes starting to water as he turned to walk away.

You put your hand lightly on his upper arm to stop him. “Charlie. I’m sorry that I haven’t thought about my feelings for you sooner.” He turned to face you again. You dropped your hand to your side, playing with the hem of your shirt instead. “I always thought we were just friends, but now that I know what you feel, maybe I can feel the same.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’d love to give us a try. I wanna see what these feelings lead to. Now I can see us being something more than friends, and I’d like that to be a reality.” You grabbed his hand again. “Charlie, I would love to fall in love with you. I might already have. I haven’t had much time to process this, but I know there’s something there, and you deserve all the love I can give you.”

Crutchie’s mind was trying to process everything that you had just said. You might already be in love with him, but you had to figure your feelings out.

“Take all the time you need to figure everything out. I’m ready whenever you are.” He went to release his hand from yours, but you pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you. You really are the best,” you whispered into his shoulder. As you pulled away, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. It was a small gesture, but it was a start. “The start of something new.”

Crutchie watched you walk back into the living room. He put his hand up to press on the spot where your lips had just touched him. It felt warmer there than any heat he had felt before. He smiled to himself, thinking about your future together.

Crutchie whispered quietly to himself. “The start of something new.”

#crutchie morris #crutchie morris imagine #crutchie morris x reader #crutchie imagine #crutchie x reader #newsies #newsies imagine #newsies fanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsies broadway #newsies fic #newsies x reader #my writing #requested

110 notes · View notes

dontjudgemepeepswrites · 5 years

Text

Windbreaker City - S2 ep15

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

--------------------------------

*y/n's pov*

Today's the day: Windbreaker city. Aka, the best day of the year.

"Hey, Homeland Security, gather around. I have bad news," Agent Kendrick sighs. We all turn to him to hear his news. "Unfortunately, our friends at the DOD have had to drop out, and have been replaced with the NYPD." He rolls his eyes. I don't like Kendrick; he's an ass. I like the NYPD! I mean, our jobs would be much harder if it weren't for them. And they're nice people and underrated. However, I can't voice my opinion. Not here anyway. A load of sighs and groans are projected. Snooty pricks. "I know, I know. But this should be the only time it happens. Now everyone in the bus." We all get in, me even more eager now that I know that the NYPD will be there. But I obviously don't show it.

*At the venue*

Ah, it's nice to be back. I love Windbreaker city. I love getting to meet new people through it and seeing my friends. I could become friends with someone on the NYPD! Today's gonna be a good day.

*10 minutes later*

I've changed my mind. It's going to be awful. I saw my ex. He must work in the NYPD. Crap.

"Stella, I'm gonna need your help today," I say to Stella, my closest friend at Homeland Security.

"Why? What happened? You never need help."

"My ex is here."

"Oh. You need help avoiding them?"

"Yes. He works for the NYPD and his name is Jake Peralta. He has brown hair and eyes. We dated in high school but had a few disagreements about somethings and broke up. It was very messy."

"I'll do the best I can."

"Alright, everyone take their seats. My name is Agent Kendrick, Homeland Security, and I am in charge here. This year's scenario: terrorists have stormed the Capital Trust's Bank building and have taken hostages."

"Noice," I hear, followed by a high five.

"Yup, definitely Jake Peralta," I whisper to Stella.

"Oh, cool trick. I don't have a ton of free time to practise high fiving," mocks Kendick (yes, that was intended), before doing exactly what I'm assuming Jake did. I roll my eyes, annoyed at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, y/n. Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Kendick asks. Well, that threw any chance of Jake not seeing me out the window.

"No, sir," I respond, despising that I have to call him sir.

"That's what I thought. Now, here are your assignments:" Kendick starts, but I feel a pair of eyes focused on me. I look up in Jake's direction, locking eyes with him. Yup, he's definitely seen me.

"Never mind," I whisper to Stella.

"ATF, you will be our terrorists. Homeland Security, you are command control. Marshals, strike team alpha. And NYPD..." he pauses to look at his clipboard, but I already know what he's going to say. "It says here that you will be our hostages."

"What? So you just want us to lay on the ground and nothing like a bunch of losers?" the familiar voice asks.

"Yes, precisely."

"No!"

"Jackpot!" a third voice yells.

*Later*

I see Jake come outside.

"What is he doing? He's supposed to be a hostage," Kendick says in rage and marches over to him.

"I knew this wouldn't go well," I mumble. They talk for a few minutes and Kendick makes his way back over to us. However, before he reaches us, Peralta does the thing I prayed that he wouldn't.

"Hey y/n! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want, Peralta?"

"To talk."

"We'll talk later, once the drill is finished."

"Fine." And with that, he walks back inside. All eyes are on me.

"You know him?" Kendick asks.

"High school."

"We'll try and use it to our advantage then. Lure him out and we'll get him. But first, you need to get a sausage pizza and some gasonex."

"Ok?" I leave after that and head to the nearest Papa John's.

"Hi, can I get a sausage pizza please," I ask the cashier.

"Of course. Is that all?"

"Yes."

"$15 please." I give them a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, your pizza should be ready in at most 10 minutes."

"Thank you." 10 minutes should be enough time to quickly grab some gasonex, especially since there's a CVS next door. I quickly grab and pay for it, heading back for the pizza. Luckily, it's ready so I pick it up and thank the cashier.

I arrive back at where we're based, I see that the NYPD are here, but they don't see me, so I put the pizza on a car and hide so they don't see me. I have a plan. I wait for everyone to take each other out, until there's supposedly only Jake and Kendick left. They seem to be having a conversation, when I get up secretly and aim. Then I notice that the NYPD are about to say something to Jake and I hold my finger up to my lip and motion that I'm gonna get Kendick. Just as I see Kendick start to pull his gun out, I shoot, killing him.

"What the heck? Who shot me? You're all out!"

"Correction. They're all out. I'm still in."

"y/n? Why are you on their team? You work for Homeland Security."

"Yeah, but you were prejudice and, frankly, a bit of a dick."

"Whatever, let's go. Everyone. I need to talk to the losers." I roll my eyes at his comment.

*Back in the hall where they had the briefing*

"Interesting tactic, detectives. Show up at your first inter-agency drill and mess the whole thing up," Kendick says, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Less of a tactic and more a series of incredible events," Jake quips.

"And what was the most incredible event... was it screwing up the entire drill in it's many years of being run in front of all your friends?"

"Pfft, I have other friends."

"Who?" questions the man next to Jake.

"I knew it was a dumb idea to invite the NYPD to a federal drill."

"Shut up, Kendrick. People provoked them, and you under mimed them by giving them the role of hostages or, as Jake's vest now says, hos. Of course they weren't going to follow the rules. Everyone was a prick to them. Plus, they still took out pretty much everyone. Next time, if people aren't so prejudice, maybe they'll follow the rules," I point out.

"Oh, there won't be a next time. But maybe I'll see you at the Pentagon Christmas party. Oh right. You guys aren't invited to those. Kid Rock was there. Those were my last words, bro." He walks away, full of pride.

"I'm sorry about Kendick," I say to the NYPD squad after he's out of earshot.

"What did you just call him?" Jake asks.

"Kendick. He may be my superior, but if he fires me, his superiors will fire him. I can talk at him with whatever attitude I want. After all, I'm the top agent at Homeland Security. Look, Jake, I'm sorry you didn't get him yourself, but he was about to John McClane you."

"Don't worry. Today's been a total win. I haven't checked my phone in forever. Now that I've said that, I do kinda wanna check it though. I'm gonna just do it." Jake pulls out his phone. "No text. But, I'm probably 20% less devastated than I would've been this morning and that's thanks to you guys." Jake suddenly realises something and lets out a small gasp. "I catharted."

"You catharted hard," says the muscular guy next to me.

"Break up?" I whisper to the guy next to me.

"Yup."

"Ah. That's rough."

"Jake arrested her boss because he caught him doing cocaine. And she was a defence attorney."

"A cop dating a defence attorney?! That's brave."

"Yeah. They were quite cute together though."

"Hey, y/n. Let me introduce you to the squad."

"Wait. You're y/n? As in y/f/n that Jake went to high school with?" the guy next to me asked.

"Yes. Did you know he had a nose ring?"

"Oh my god, did he actually? I'm so holding that against you, Peralta," a woman with long, curly hair laughs.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you two break up?" the other woman asks.

"We both got really stressed and took it out on each other with loads of petty fights. It was quite stupid. And these were very petty fights. Like, we took it to a whole new level," I explain.

"Yeah, I think they get it y/n/n. Anyway, this is Detective Rosa Diaz, Detective Amy Santiago, Detective Charles Boyle and Sergeant Terry Jeffords."

"Hey, what about us?"

"They're Hitchcock and Scully."

"Nice to meet you guys. You all seem close. I wish I had that with my co-workers. I've only got one actual friend here. Plus everyone is a snob who looks down on literally anyone who doesn't work for a federal agency."

"Sounds awful," Jake inputs.

"It is. But I like my job and they won't let me transfer anywhere else, so I'm stuck here. Fun. Anyway, I'm sure you have stuff to do, I won't stop you. Go when you want, but I'm gonna stick around a while." Everyone disperses, some going into small conversations, some going to a vending machine and others dong other stuff.

"Hey, y/n. Can we have that talk now?" Jake asks.

"Sure." I look at Charles and wait for him to leave.

"Charles, I meant in private. Could you maybe talk to Amy and Rosa for a bit?" Jake asks, realising that Boyle's still here.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he apologises, going to talk to the girls.

"So, what do ya want?" I ask.

"To start over."

"Pardon?"

"We ended our relationship in an awful way, but I think we could be good friends now."

"So do I."

"However, I just got out of a relationship so, no matter how hard it is, you can't fall in love with me. Yet." He sends me a playful wink.

"You've not changed, have you, Peralta?"

"Of course not! I'm still that awesome. Only, even more so now that I've gotten rid of that nose piercing and awful haircut."

"You looked like an emo, not gonna lie. What would happen if I hit the g-note on a piano?"

"What would happen if I hit the g-note, title of your sex tape." I roll my eyes.

"This is gonna be an amazing friendship, I can already tell."

"Yeah, friendship."

"Hey, y/n, is that you?!" a voice says from across the room. I look to see who it is. Ah crap.

"How many of my exes are cops, bloody hell," I mumble. "Hey Brian. What d'you need?" I ask, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over a meal? As a date, maybe?"

"Why would I go on a date with you? Especially since you cheated on me. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

"Oh. Who?"

"Me. I'm their boyfriend," Jake announces, obviously sensing my desperate need for help.

"Oh, come on. You can do better, y/n. He's from the scum bucket."

"1. Don't ever say that about the NYPD and 2. I'm good thanks. He's better than you ever were."

"Doubt it. And if he truly is your boyfriend, prove it."

"I don't have to prove anything to you, you--" but I get cut off by a pair of lips on mine. I kiss back, after about a second of shock. I pull away shortly after and turn back to Brian. He's just stood there in shock. "Now get out of here before I kick you where the sun don't shine, Brian!" He scrambles out of the room, now shocked and scared.

"How did he become a federal agent?" Jake asks.

"His dad is head of the ATF. That's literally the only reason."

"Oh."

"And thanks for doing that, but you didn't have to, really."

"It was nothing. I was just trying to be a good friend. Yeah. A good friend."

"Ok, yeah. A really good friend." My comment is then followed by an awkward silence. "So. How's life?" I awkwardly laugh.

"Fine. You?"

"Strange." Another awkward silence. "I'm gonna go, I need to work," I awkwardly announce, trying to find a way out of the situation.

"Sure, yeah. We should get going too. Bye."

"Bye." That has to've been the most awkward conversation of my life. I have no idea what my new 'friendship' is gonna hold but I'm scared.

#brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta imagine #jakeperaltaoneshot #jakeperaltaimagine #imagine #oneshot #xreader #jakeperalta #jake peralta x reader #jakeperaltaxreader

4 notes · View notes

garkgatiss · 7 years

Text

Four episodes, three false narratives, two potential outcomes, no loose ends.

ACD Watson was known for regularly publishing cases in The Strand with

1. The names changed,

MYCROFT: That's the trouble with uniforms and name badges, people stop looking at faces.

2. The locations changed,

MARY: No, I-I-I mean how did you find me? No, really, though, how? Every movement I made was entirely random!

3. Basic facts of the case entirely rewritten to avoid self-incrimination.

SHERLOCK: That’s now how it happened at all.

These three episodes are a set. They’re all retellings of the same events, pieced together from the limited information that John is willing to divulge, supplemented by imagination and colored by the author’s own feelings and motivations. Fresh paint to disguise another smell. Throughout all three episodes, we see wildly diverging narratives inspired by the same core kernels of truth. The fourth episode, the final ending of Clue, will tell us what really happened.

Cut for clarifications and updates.

Three false narratives

Moffat: Also, if you read [The Adventure Of] Charles Augustus Milverton, Dr. Watson in the opening paragraph tells you that he’s about to tell you a porkie. (x)

1. The opening scenes of T6T: Mycroft &co are rewriting the events of the HLV finale while Sherlock looks on. This episode is Sherlock absorbing evidence from John, listening to him tell his story, and calling bullshit. “That’s now how it happened at all.” Sherlock fills in the gaps and lies with his own deductions and fabrications, resulting in the story we see being told, but seeing as he has a massive blind spot when it comes to Mary (and John too, frankly), he’s no closer to the truth.

2. The opening scenes of TLD: John in therapy, volunteering as much information as is typical for him. John, our precious son, is terminally incapable of talking about himself and his feelings, so the rest of the story we see told in this episode is John projecting his deeply repressed issues, his darkest secrets, onto every other character in his story. Getting it off his chest without getting it on yours.

3. The opening of TFP: Mycroft Mark Gatiss is watching a romantic movie when it’s interrupted with a real-life horror movie plot. “Someone convinced him that you wouldn't tell the truth unless you were actually wetting yourself.” This episode is more true than the first two, but it’s filtered directly through John’s appalling self-worth and takes place in his bleak sexuality bunker. John casts Sherlock as the action hero protagonist even in his own mind, and the happiest ending he can imagine for them is one where “who he really is” doesn’t matter. Somebody help him.

Each episode, the writers tell us, just like Watson does, that they’re about to tell us a porkie. The first endings to the Clue Movie. The final ending, the fourth episode, The Lost Special, tells us what really happened.

Eurus the Scapegoat

SHERLOCK: I see. Who is supposed to have shot him, then?

SIR EDWIN: Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that’s who.

When Watson writes up the Milverton case, he [according to the Mofftiss reading] invents the character of the woman who shows up in the dead of night to kill Milverton in order to cover for the fact that it was in actuality Watson who went there with the express purpose of killing Milverton himself.

So what has been edited out of the three episodes that we’ve seen so far? The thing we were devastated to not have seen in the third episode last Sunday?

Their romantic love.

Well, I’ve got something “they” would dearly love if only we could get out of here. I’ve got ammo.

The ammo/amo connection is made so that we can take a parallel leap in Greek from Eurus to Eros. In the three stories presented, John uses the fake villain of Eurus to explain his actions that were, in reality, motivated by Love.

Reaching out to E Sherlock via text? Motivated by Love.

Reaching out to Sherlock, coming to 221b in the middle of the night for help, because he’s Faith’s John’s last hope? Motivated by Love.

Reaching out to a new therapist who reminds him of Sherlock after Mary’s “death”? Motivated by Love.

“Mr. Archer, on the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson.” As in, The Blind Archer by ACD? Also known as Cupid? Also known as Eros?

She finally hit her mark.

In John’s mind palace bleak sexuality bunker, Love has been kept prisoner since they were children. She wreaks havoc on everyone she speaks to, beguiles them, reprograms them. She tells Dr. Taylor to kill himself and his family. Love taught Sherlock to play violin.

Love is what caused all these things. Eurus is the scapegoat. The over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger.

Can Samarra be avoided? Two possible outcomes

In T6T, the car crashes; the drunk driver is pulled from the wreck and the gay kid is found already dead. In TLD, the wildly-driven car arrives safely and in time to get the needed help.

In T6T, the tea tray crashes to the floor as Ajay the John mirror is killed(?). In TLD, Sherlock throws down his gun in time to catch Mrs. Hudson’s falling teacup.

John doesn’t care if he dies, but more importantly, he doesn’t believe that Sherlock would care if he dies. He’s never had to say “vatican cameos” to Sherlock before. When he says it in his mind in TFP, Sherlock ignores him. Sherlock deletes his texts, after all, doesn’t he? John reaches out, through Eurus, to Sherlock, again and again, in these small ways he knows how, without risking his true feelings and the ultimate rejection. But John is at the bottom of a well. At the end of his rope.

He even leaves Sherlock a note. Isn’t that what people do? Leave a note?

Golf Whiskey X-Ray, this is a distress call.

So we return to the problem. The Final Problem: Staying Alive. The Appointment in Samarra.

Sherlock rejects Faith’s case for being boring, but at the last second he stops her and stays up with her all night in order to keep her from harming herself.

Don’t solve the murder. Save the life.

Both paths from here have been illustrated in the three false narratives to an extent that I think this will be a major turning point of the finale, possibly with Sherlock pursuing hypothetical scenarios in his Mind Palace before he understands he must choose John over Mycroft, just like he does in John’s mind in TFP.

That he must choose love over logic, as real of a dichotomy as that has ever been.

“Lost without your love.” “Save my soul, seek my room.”

“Save John Watson.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------What are the kernels of truth that show through the coat of paint?

Kernel of Truth: The Knife

Kernel of Truth: The Car and The Driver

More coming soon...

Major thanks to Ariane Devere’s transcripts, as always, as well as the friend I’m staying with who’s being very patient with my tinhatting at the moment.

#s4 speculation #s4 meta #the lost special

1K notes · View notes