#also no way someone is going to treat mrs hudson badly

[possiblyimbiassed]

John Watson and The Abominable Bride

After reading this brilliant analysis and the following interesting discussion about gay subtext in Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, also commented by @thepersianslipper​, I felt inspired to explore a bit further what Mofftiss might have made of Holmes’ and Watson’s relationship in the episode The Abominable Bride - TAB - of BBC Sherlock. TAB, which is supposed to mainly take place in 1895 (albeit inside Sherlock’s head), seems to be focused on Mofftiss’ take on the Victorian original of their work. In particular I wanted to explore the role of John Watson in this episode, which I suspect is a commentary on ACD himself. I interpret TAB’s Watson as ACD’s alter ego in this context, since he’s (supposedly) the storyteller. What kind of stories did ACD actually write, what did he put in, what did he leave out and what did he leave obvious only to people approaching the story with ‘queer’ glasses? 

TAB raises some questions that I think aren’t found - or at least aren’t that very obvious - in the rest of the show. There are similarities, of course, but I think TAB is a rather different display, and not only because the story seems to be re-told from a 19th century perspective. TAB has lines that seem to refer directly to literary criticism of ACD’s work, rather than being meaningful elements of the plot line in Mofftiss’ adaptation. It’s all disguised as Watson talking about his published works in The Strand, which was actually ACD’s own publisher IRL. But I think that’s a bit different from modern John publishing entries on his own blog, which is not Mofftiss’ principal channel of publishing, even if they’ve made it accessible to all viewers who have Internet.

So how is Watson depicted in TAB? For one thing, he starts out clean-shaven by the time he first meets Holmes, but as soon as we see him married, he wears a mustache. Not like the dull, ill-fitting one from TEH, but a ‘virile’, Victorian version which is far more similar to ACD’s own mustache (X). 

But in TAB Watson also appears like a man attempting (but failing) to keep up a ‘manly’ facade by trying to lord over the other sex. His treatment of his wife is one example, which gets more contradicted and opposed by Mary the more the episode advances. Watson is rather condescending when she asks him - as opposed to her behaviour in canon - not to leave her behind, and he responds by basically telling her to go back to the kitchen. 

MRS WATSON: And am I just to sit here? WATSON: Not at all, my dear. We’ll be hungry later!

Then he runs off with Holmes as usual.

Watson wonders why on earth Mary is trying to be a client. But in ACD’s stories, Watson’s wife has only a role to play as long as she is a client. After that, she’s reduced to some kind of silent support-base for Watson’s relationship with Holmes, who repeatedly encourages her husband to rather spend time with his dear friend Holmes than with her. Not very convincing if you ask me. ;)

An example from FIVE: “My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street”. (At this point ACD conveniently ‘forgets’ that Mary Morstan is an orphan in the earlier story The Sign of Four (SIGN)). And why would her journey mean that her husband automatically should sleep at 221 B anyway? ;))

Another example from The Naval Treaty (NAVA): “My wife agreed with me that not a moment should be lost in laying the matter before him, and so within an hour of breakfast-time I found myself back once more in the old rooms in Baker Street.” This was supposedly in the month that immediately followed on their wedding. Hmm...

ACD literally wrote Mary out of the story by marrying her with Watson, rather than doing the opposite, which would have seemed more logical to me. Why create a character whose interesting story we’re allowed to know, only to push her out of sight as soon as she marries one of the protagonists? To me this seems almost too wasteful, even with Victorian (sexist) standards of depicting women. Even when Mary is dead and gone, Watson’s ‘wife’ is still referred to every now and then, but without offering her even a name. Which leaves it pretty obvious, in my opinion, that this wife is merely a facade - but apparently important as such.

Mary in both HLV, TAB and TST seems reluctant to accept this role (except when Sherlock reveals her as a facade by projecting her picture on a real, empty facade), but in TLD ghost!Mary encourages John to go and solve crimes together with Sherlock: “make him wear the hat”. In other words, John and Sherlock are allowed to spend most of their lives together, but only as long as the ghost of Watson’s wife still hangs over them as a heterosexual alibi, and as long as the Work can be used as an excuse. This comes directly from Doyle, as far as I can see.

In the case of TAB’s Mrs Hudson, she has very few lines; all she does is serving breakfast or tea, and the literary critic’s perspective is even spelled out by ACD Watson: “Well, within the narrative, that is – broadly speaking – your function“. Which is later, when the character refuses to talk at all, backed up by Holmes: “I fear she’s branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It is a distressing trend in the modern landlady”. And to be honest, I can’t think of many lines from Mrs Hudson in canon, in spite of her being Holmes’ landlady for a very long time. She must certainly have seen a lot of ‘these gentlemen’. :) In the rest of BBC Sherlock she plays a far more important part, to the point that I believe even her more off-hand remarks are actually significant to the story.

Watson’s housemaid in TAB is also treated badly: he rants at her, and when she observes (probably to really rub it in for the audience) that his marriage doesn’t seem to be very happy and fulfilling, and then asks why she is never mentioned in the stories, he orders her out of the room, and then immediately goes running after Holmes.

(Isn’t it interesting, by the way, that the greenish tiles in Watson’s fireplace are so similar to those at modern 221B? ;) This scene is confirmed to happen inside Sherlock’s head, but very similar tiles also appear in the drug den of HLV...)

As for [Molly] Hooper (a John mirror, I believe, created specifically for BBC Sherlock), there’s the morgue scene where her appearance is very similar to Watson’s; the colour scheme, the clothes and even the ACD-style mustache is there. 

And that’s exactly when Watson starts talking about a possible ‘secret twin’ in the murder case. 

But if Watson and Hooper are metaphorical twins here, one of them is the one who otherwise in the show has made it quite obvious that they’re in love with Sherlock Holmes, while the other one tries (but hopelessly fails) to hide this fact. I also think it’s significant that for the first time in BBC Sherlock, Molly Hooper is recognised as a doctor (a pathologist) in charge of the morgue, rather than any kind of assistant working at a lab. But then Watson ‘outs’ Hooper as a woman, taking his hat off for her while still being dismissive. Is it his own bisexuality he’s dismissing?

Just one more reflection upon Watson and the women in TAB. Lady Carmichael, whose husband Eustace is mocking her and looking down on her, is called Louisa. ACD’s first wife was also named Louisa. They married after knowing each other only for a few months, which is even less than the time between John meeting Mary and their marriage in BBC Sherlock. Louisa died of consumption (chronic tuberculosis) at the age of 49. Watson states in the morgue scene of TAB that Emelia Ricoletti, the ’Abominable Bride’, was already dying from consumption when she committed suicide.

Ghosts are a recurring theme in TAB (as well as in TLD). Holmes makes it clear that they don’t exist - ”save those we make for ourselves” - and that ’the abominable bride’ as a vengeful ghost is created by trickery. 

But Watson in TAB is also more superstitious than John ever gives us reason to think he is in the modern show. And according to several sources, ACD was a fervent believer in the spiritual world and life after death (X, X, X).

Speaking of vengeful ghosts, I think one of the names Holmes suggests for this case, before Watson decides to call it “The Abominable Bride”,  is quite interesting: The League of Furies. The furies in Greek mythology were vengeful goddesses. One of their explicit purposes was punishing oath breakers and marital infidelity - they were jealousy personified. It’s hard to see the logics in TAB of this cult of women seeking revenge by murder, for crimes that are not actually specified. Or committing suicide merely to prove a point. Vengeance seems more apt in the case of the victims of Charles Augustus Milverton’s blackmail (CHAS), but in TAB the crimes aren’t revealed. All they tell us about Emelia’s husband, for example, is that he “had his way with her”. But since this is all happening inside Sherlock’s mind palace, I think it makes far more sense (as someone has suggested - was it @ebaeschnbliah? @raggedyblue​? Sorry for my bad memory) that what we’re actually seeing is Sherlock beating himself over the head with metaphors for emotions. It’s not about the actual women of the show, but rather about the fury of neglected emotions. The vengeful ‘furies’ are over him and John and their mirrors, for having been repressed for such a long time. 

Another interesting topic in TAB is the five orange pips that Eustace Carmichael receives, apparently from the women of the cult (who bear pointy hoods like the KKK). Eustace is terrified by the threat and believes that his old sins are coming back to him, while still trying to keep up a brave facade, outwardly blaming his wife for being hysteric. But soon he’s stabbed to death. While the five ‘pips’ also appears as ‘Greenwich pips’ already in TGG (which some brilliant people have pointed out resembles a five-act play, where S5 might be the unresolved final ‘pip’), these real pips are from ACD’s The Five Orange Pips (FIVE). 

Doyle’s story is about a rather unpleasant uncle of Holmes’ client, who was a racist and member of the KKK in the States. Following his escape back to Europe after the civil war, the remnants of the Klan seek him out and threaten him with orange pips as a signal, and later kills him. When the client visits Holmes and Watson, the following dialogue occurs, which is exactly the same as the conversation between Louisa Carmichael and Holmes in TAB:

“I have come for advice.” “That is easily got.” “And help.” “That is not always so easy.”

The same threat and killing happens also to the client’s father and eventually to the client himself (who is named John, by the way). Holmes figures out who the culprits are, but by then their sailing ship has already left London. The story ends with Holmes and Watson being reached by the news that parts of the wrecked ship have been found drifting in the Atlantic, but the destiny of the crew is unknown. Un unsolved case by ACD that is still waiting for its solution in Series 5? 

Transcripts from Ariane De Vere (X). Screen-caps (partly) from here.

@sarahthecoat​ @gosherlocked​

#BBC Sherlock and ACD Canon #the five orange pips #the league of furies #the abominable bride

[prorevenge]

How I became Summer camp Sherlock.

Okay so, I was having a conversation with a friend and they said this was a good story to post here. I hope you all agree. I decided to add a bit more information on this one than in the original story I told her, since I wasn’t expecting to post it here until she suggested it. Please, enjoy.

Background Info: I work as a staffer at a small summer camp, and during the off season they have retreats. Staffers aren’t treated badly, but we are the lowest on the totem pole and do ALL the hard work, from 7 AM till around 2 AM, so we have some long work days. We also don’t get paid as much as the counselors; we only get about 100$ dollars a week. Our food and board is the rest of the payment, you see, and most of us aren’t old enough to worry about rent quite yet. The camp also has a very strict hiring policy because they have a good reputation and value every member of staff. Also, I’m either an insomniac or narcoleptic, or both if that’s possible (doctors have said all three answers so, I dunno), AND anemic. So, I’m CONSTANTLY tired and trying to nap everywhere. This is important.

The Story: for several week someone from staff has been stealing money from the rest of the workers. Lots of it. At this time I didn’t have a nickname like everyone else, though they did occasionally call me Smartass because I love random facts and can get pretty snarky for the fun of it, or Ninja Napper because I sleep wherever and whenever I can and will attack you if you touch me. But I also love to watch Sherlock and write detective stories, so when my bosses were talking about how to solve this problem, I volunteered.

The Revenge: So I started by scouting everyone out. My closest friends were out of the question, since they roomed with me and I knew where they were at all times. Still, I investigated a bit before ruling them out completely. Then I moved on to the rest of the staffers. There were two I was suspicious of; Britney and Dayton. Britney held true to all the stereotypes about a girl with her name. I know a few nice Britneys, but she was not one of them. How she got on staff I have no clue. Dayton was obnoxious, but a good worker. However, whenever I joked about being keleptomaniacal (because I love stealing and wearing everyone’s clothes- we were all pretty close at this point so it was just fun), he went quiet and laughed nervously.

I checked out the counselors next, but they were clean. Too busy dunking campers in the pool or doing crafts to care about the missing money problems of staffers. Same with Tech team, Rex team, and outdoor team. That’s when I knew that my two suspects, Dayton and Britney, were the only two options. It only took me a day to rule out Dayton. He was off campus when the next theft occurred. Britney had been in the pigpen cleaning dishes, near where the Crime was committed. She was smart, though. She had a ‘witness’ testifying she talked to her the entire time. Even though no one was really sure when the theft took place, they believed her alibi.

The Game: She was relatively clever. It took me two weeks to catch her. First, I had to get her used to some things. 1. I nap everywhere. It was easy to adjust her to this, since I was famous for it (Ninja Napper) already. I don’t sleep in those five hours we get to rest between finishing cleaning up Late Night and serving breakfast in the morning, so I sleep everywhere. On roofs, halfway up the rock climbing wall, under the serving counter, on TOP of the serving counter... you name it, I’ve slept there. Check. 2. It’s impossible to wake me up from noise or light- but touch me even barely and I’ll attack. This was also easy because it was true. Once I managed to sleep, I was dead to the world. If someone bangs pots over my head (happened) I stayed asleep. If someone flicked the lights on right in my eyes (happened) I stayed asleep. If someone brushed me on accident, I attacked. (Ninja Napper) 3. I leave my money wherever. This was a bit of a sacrifice. I’m pretty laidback- and lazy because I’m always tired- so it’s not too far a stretch to believe... but in truth I’m meticulous with my money. I had to leave it and let her steal it for two weeks. That was my paycheck, and she was taking all o it. But sacrifices had to be made if I was going to properly get revenge on Bitchney. 4. I’m an idiot. Everyone knew I was investigating the thief. Including Bitchney. So, I accused several OTHER people, and confided privately about my suspicions to her. Don’t worry, I told the accused beforehand what was going on, but no one else knew. She was... very agreeable when I suggested anyone but her.

The Trap: Finally I set the trap. Over the span of a week, I let her steal about a hundred bucks from me in twenties, each time following her ‘tips’ and ‘accusing’ several people. (The week before it was all fives and ones.) Then, one day, I took a nap next to a handful of twenties (reminder that all this money was my paycheck.) and waited. I videoed her walking up, taking the money, and giving me the fucking bird. Bitch.

The Reward: So, I showed bosses where she kept the money (under her mattress. SO original) and the video. I explained my random accusations to everyone who didn’t know- who all thought I was a bitch by then- and made a ridiculous amount of Sherlock jokes and references on the way, because how could I not? Bitchney was fired, I was given my money back plus a little extra, and my nickname has been Sherlock ever since.

Tl;dr I caught a bitchy thief by napping and making Sherlock references.

Buckle down and let me tell you about Bitchney’s Reichenbach Fall.

Once I went to my bosses with the evidence and they were able to say that she definitely did it, there was a meeting called between her, and... let’s call them Lestrade, Mycroft, the Queen, and Mrs. Hudson. That would be the Camp director, camp supervisor, and the two staff coordinators. Let it be known I was on first name basis with both director and supervisor before this summer, and the coordinators were fond of me since I worked hard and cheerfully to make up for my mostly-accidental naps.

Because I was the witness, the one who provided the evidence, AND the ‘consulting detective’ (couldn’t resist during the investigation), I was called into this meeting as well.

I laid out the evidence, showed then the video and the money, and brought in each ‘accused’ person from the last two weeks so they could confirm that it was an act and I wasn’t a clueless but lucky idiot. Bitchney, in her plastic blue chair, was glaring at me with populargirl-knives-for-eyes.

The time came for her to defend herself. She tried to spin some bullshit story about me framing her. When that didn’t work, she tried to say I was her partner wanting the money to myself. First of all, I couldn’t resist saying at this point that she was acting like a one of those dumb crooks from a tv show. That also didn’t work, and she said a few choice words to me for my comment.

Finally, they excused me from the room. After all, I was a big help but I was just a staffer. It wasn’t appropriate for me to be in the room or contribute to their deliberations. I waited outside for a good twenty minutes before the door was slammed open so hard it almost hit my face (I will admit to tying to eavesdrop) and Bitchney walked out. When she saw me, I fully expected her to leap at me.

Bitchney did not leap at me. She cursed me out, said she’d ruin my social media accounts and call me out on all the slutty stuff I did, and left. As she left, I called to her that Crime never slept, but I certainly did. (I do believe I commented that earlier. No one asked, so I didn’t get to tell this story to explain it ;-;)

Joke’s on her. I don’t have any social media, and I’ve never even dated.

So! While it wasn’t as fun or clever as the actual revenge, it was still hella satisfying to be part of that. Last I heard, she tried to reapply this year. Haha no. The bosses aren’t idiots and won’t rehire a thief.

Tl;dr: “Crime never sleeps but I certainly do!”

(source) (story by 1stdreadpiraterobert)

#prorevenge #by 1stdreadpiraterobert #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revengestories

[darnedchild]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Winter 2018 - Day 6

Also on FFdotNet and Ao3

MHAW Day Six – Day 6 - Love The Way You ___ (Fanworks focusing on particular things loved about Molly)

Only one more day left of Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Winter 2018 AND I’ve already written my fic for it.  Which means . . . That’s 6 full Appreciation Weeks down - 42 fics over (combined) 42 days.  Next is Sherlolly Appreciation week at the beginning of March.  Fingers crossed I’ll manage 7 for 7 again.

And here is today’s fic.

The Molly Hooper Project

Rosie squirmed in her chair, obviously eager to move on from the cake portion of the birthday party to the presents.

“All right, Sprout.  I’ll help Mrs Hudson clean up later.  Show Molly what you’ve made her.”  John indulgently smiled at his eight-year-old daughter.  

She slid off her chair in Mrs Hudson’s dining room and rushed out the door to the stairs to 21b.  “Up here, Aunt Molly.  Hurry!”  

Molly laughed as she climbed the stairs at a much more sedate pace.

By the time the adults followed the little girl into the sitting room and arranged themselves to Rosie’s satisfaction, the young girl already had the telly remote in hand.  Someone had rearranged the furniture in anticipation of Rosie’s gift; pushing the chairs that were normally in front of the fireplace to the side and turning the telly so that everyone in the room would be able to see it.  Molly sat in the middle of the sofa next to Rosie, as requested, with Mrs Hudson on her other side.  John and Greg each took one of the relocated chairs.  For some reason, Sherlock chose to stand, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe to the hall.

“Are we ready?”  Rosie didn’t wait for an answer before she aimed the remote at the telly.

A carefully hand lettered sign appeared on the screen.  It read “The Molly Hooper Project by Rosamund Watson”.

The screen went dark for a second. John appeared, stretched out on the sofa in the Watson sitting room.  He had his index finger stuck between the pages of a book.  “Is that my phone?”

The image tilted wildly for a moment, ending on a view of Rosie’s favourite sparkly purple sneakers seconds before her little feet turned to run.  Everyone heard her squeal of laughter before the picture cut out entirely.  

When it came back on, John was there again.  Only this time he was sitting up on the sofa, the book set to the side, and he looked as if he were trying to hold back a smile.  “- a movie for Molly’s birthday?”

“To show her how much we all love her.”

“That sounds like a very nice project, Sprout; but you still need to ask before you take my phone to make videos next time.”

“Yes, Daddy.  I’m filming now.”  The phone wiggled as if to emphasise her point.

“She’s . . . consistent.  Always there when you need a hand.  A friend.  I have always known I can trust her with the thing I love the most.”

“What’s that, Daddy?”

John smiled and hopped up off the sofa, heading straight for his daughter.  “You, of course!”

There was another squeal of laughter.

The image flicked over to a tilted view of Mrs Hudson sitting at her kitchen table.  “What is this for, dear?”

The image straightened as Rosie answered from off camera.  “Aunt Molly’s birthday.”

“Oh, happy birthday, Molly!”  Mrs Hudson waved.

“What is your favourite thing about Aunt Molly?  What do you love about her?”

“She’s the sweetest thing. Considerate.  Always willing to pop in for a cuppa and a bit of gossip when she’s here.”  Mrs Hudson’s nose crinkled as she smiled.

The scene changed again.  This time it was Mike Stamford answering Rosie’s question.  “She’s a hard worker.  The kind you can depend on, no matter what.  Even when someone else keeps popping up to distract her.  And she’s kind.”

“How-?” Molly started to ask.

Rosie shushed her.  “Uncle Sherlock took me.”

“You took my daughter to Barts?” John aimed a glare across the room.

Sherlock waved his hand.  “She had a list of people she wanted to talk to, and I had an afternoon free.”  

Now Greg was on the screen.  Molly recognized his office from the time she’d tagged along with Sherlock on their crime solving day.  “Does John know she’s here?”  Greg pointed at the camera.

“He left her in my care,” Sherlock replied from off screen, as if that were an actual answer.

Greg wiped his hand over his face and leaned back in his chair behind the desk.  “His mistake.”

“Exactly,” was Sherlock’s reply.

“Aunt Molly, Mr Greg.  You need to tell me what you love about Aunt Molly.”

“Right.  Right.”  Greg looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back at the camera.  “She’s brilliant.  I mean, she really knows her stuff.  I’ve dealt with a lot of people who . . . do what she does.”  His gaze flicked to the right where Sherlock was presumably sitting.  

“Pathology,” Sherlock helpfully supplied.

“That means she works at the hospital looking at diseases and dead bodies and helps figure out what killed people.“  Rosie also tried to be helpful.

“Yeah, I’m aware of what she does.” He sent a glare toward Sherlock. “I just didn’t realize the eight-year-old was aware of it too.”

Sherlock snorted.  “Don’t blame me.  That was Molly.”  

Greg shook his head.  “Does John know about that?”

“Yes, John knows, unfortunately,” the man in question grumbled to the room at large as the image shifted yet again.

This time it was Molly’s best friend Meena, and they were sitting at a table in a coffee shop.  “Aren’t you adorable?” Meena asked as she offered the camerawomen a biscuit.

“Thank you, Miss,” Rosie politely replied as her hand crept into view to take the offered treat.

“What isn’t to love about Molly? She’s smart and goofy, generous and forgiving.  Perhaps to a fault.”  Meena’s gaze flicked rather pointedly to the left.  “Wouldn’t you agree, Sherlock?”

From somewhere to the left of the camera, Sherlock huffed.  “Eat your biscuit, Watson.  We’ve got to get you back to Baker Street before your father comes looking for you.”

“Seriously, Sherlock, we are going to have to have a talk about-Sherlock?”  John looked confused as he called out his friend’s name.  Molly looked around with everyone else, and realized that Sherlock had left the room.  He must have slipped out during Meena’s interview.

Before anyone could call his name again, the scene on the telly changed once more.  

This time it showed very room they were sitting in.  Sherlock sat at his laptop, typing away at something as the camera focused on him.

“Okay, Uncle Sherlock.”

“Hmm?”  He looked up briefly and offered an absentminded smile for his goddaughter before he returned to his typing.  “I thought you were down stairs with Mrs Hudson.”  

“Her story came on the telly and there was messy kissing.”  Even without seeing Rosie, her disgust was clear.  “Your turn.  What do you love about Aunt Molly?”

“Everything.”  His fingers stilled and he remained utterly motionless for a full five seconds.  

Molly held her breath.

On screen Sherlock slowly pushed his chair away from the table and turned his full attention to Rosie.  “I have been thinking about how best to answer your question since you told me about your project, and that’s it.”  He took a deep breath and stared right into the camera. “I love everything about your Aunt. But I can’t tell her that, not to her face.”

“Why not, Uncle Sherlock?”  The poor girl sounded confused.  

“I told her once, years ago.  But it wasn’t . . . right.  And it hurt her.  It hurt us both.”

“Why would hurt?  Did you lie?  Because you’re not supposed to lie.”

Sherlock shook his head.  “No, it wasn’t a lie.  But it wasn’t really the truth, either.  I had known, before I said it, that I cared for your Aunt.  But until the words came out, I hadn’t understood how much, and what those feelings really meant.  And I wasn’t ready for that.”  He grimaced.  “Then there were so many other things to deal with, important things that couldn’t be ignored, and by the time I finally worked up the nerve to sit down and speak with Molly about it . . . it was too late.”

“I don’t understand?  You and Aunt Molly are friends.  Did you make up for hurting her?”

He nodded.  “Eventually.  You know that Molly and I are-”

“Kissing.  With tongues,” Rosie finished for him.

“I was going to say dating, and perhaps you should stop watching Mrs Hudson’s stories all together, Watson.” He sighed.  “I love her and I know she loves me; but we don’t, we don’t say the words.  Those words. I want to.  I wish I could just say them without being scared that I’m going to reminder her of how badly I hurt her that first time.  I think that might be why she’s scared to say it, too.”

“Don’t be sad,” Rosie tried to console Sherlock.  “Oh! You can tell her now.  It’s not face to face in the movie.  You can say it and then she’ll see it and then she can tell you back and then you don’t have to be scared anymore.”  Her words grew faster and higher pitched as she spun out her idea.  “And then you can kiss some more!”

“I was just thinking something similar.” He took a deep breath and looked straight at the camera again.  “I love you, Molly Hooper.”

The screen went black.

Molly stared at the telly, the sound of those words echoing in her ears.  She had braced herself when she realized what he was about to do.  He had been right, she had been scared to say it again after that first time.  

But hearing him say it didn’t make her hurt.  It didn’t overwhelm her with painful reminders.  If anything, it made her feel lighter, happier.

Rosie’s little hand reached out to touch hers.  “Are you okay, Aunt Molly?  You’re crying.  Is it bad? Did I do it wrong?”

She hadn’t realized she was crying until she blinked and felt a tear trail down her cheek.  Molly scrubbed her free hand across her face and shook her head. “It’s perfect, sweetie.  Best present ever.  Thank you.”  She leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Rosie’s head, then looked around the room at everyone else.  Everyone but Sherlock, who was still missing.

“I just need a minute to . . . Excuse me.”  Molly pushed herself off the sofa and hurried through the kitchen to the bathroom, intent on splashing some water on her face and composing herself.  

The door to Sherlock’s bedroom was open just a crack, and she could see that the light was on inside.  She pushed the door open to see him sitting on the side of the bed, his hands holding on to the edge of the mattress so tight that his fingers had turned white.

“Did you make it to the end?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  Molly stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.  After a moment’s hesitation, she joined him on the bed.  “Sherlock, I-“

“No!”  He hopped up and stood in front of her.  “Wait.  Let me say it first.  The right way.”

She watched him duck his head and let him have a few seconds to gather his thoughts.  The expression on his face when he looked at her again made her heart pound.  She’d seen that expression too many times to count over the last few years, and it still took her breath away.  “You know, you have to know, how I feel about you.  Molly, I love you.”

It felt even better to hear it in person.  “I love you, too.”

“Oh, thank God.”  He dropped onto the bed beside her, causing her to bounce and laugh.  Sherlock waited for her to stop giggling to reach for her hand.  “Are they waiting for us out there?”

Molly nodded.  “Probably.  But they can wait a bit longer.”  She leaned her head against his arm and gripped his fingers tighter.  “You know I’m not going to be able to stop saying it now, don’t you?”

He squeezed her fingers back. “Neither will I.”  

#molly appreciation week #molly hooper appreciation week #day 6: love the way you ... #Sherlolly #everybody loves Molly Hooper

[discordantwords]

17: scarf and coat

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Also on AO3: Another Auld Lang Syne

Sherlock stood by the fire, coaxing life back into his cold hands.

 He had waited outside, head tilted towards the night sky, the palm of his hand curled lightly over John's shoulder. John had not spoken further, but had, after a time, reached up and touched Sherlock's hand, a brief squeeze, light pressure there and gone. An acknowledgement. A thanks.

 He'd stepped away. They'd gone inside, back up the stairs, bringing the chill of the winter night with them. Mrs Hudson had turned the radio on.

 Lestrade had arrived. He'd been in high spirits, halfway to drunk already from whatever party he'd come from, and he and John had thrown back one set of drinks, and then another. Their voices grew progressively louder, their laughter progressively looser. John seemed determined to shake off the melancholy that had seized him earlier, and though his mirth had a forced quality to it the sound was still welcome.

 Sherlock remained by the fire and let that sound warm him.

 Rosie had nodded off on the sofa, and Molly had covered her with a blanket. She'd come over to the fire after, stood next to him for a time, not speaking.

 She had questions, unspoken. He did not quite have the words to thank her for not voicing them.

 It occurred to him that his first Christmas in the Baker Street flat, the one he thought back on most fondly, was likely not such a fond memory for her. He'd treated her badly.

 He turned to look at her, took in the tense pinch of her mouth, the line between her eyes, the stiff shoulders. The way the knuckles of her right hand had gone white where she gripped her wine glass.

 He swallowed. Opened his mouth to ask—

 "You should tell him," she said. Her voice was low, flat. She did not look away from the fire.

 Her words surprised him. She often surprised him.

 "Tell—?"

 "You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend that you don't," she spoke quickly, quiet yet vehement, as if the words were difficult to force out. Something twisted in her expression and she breathed in sharply, took a sip of her wine. "And don't. Don't make fun. It's just—you're so unhappy. Both of you. Everyone thinks that I can't see it, but I do. I do see it. And—"

 "I know," Sherlock said, cutting her off. He did not think he could bear to hear any more. He softened his voice, turned to look at her fully. There were tears in her eyes. It might have just been the reflection from the firelight. "I know that you see me, Molly. I know you always have."

 She let out a sad little hiccup of a laugh, twisted the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.  

 "Then stop being stupid," she said. "Stop—stop waiting. It's always a—it's always something horrible. Always. With you. And it's not your fault, it's just—it's just the way it is. But there are only so many horrible things that someone can reasonably be expected to—" she cut herself off, took another swallow of wine.

 Warmth had crept into his face. He did not know what to say.

 "I'm sorry," he tried.

There won't be anything else horrible, he could not quite bring himself to add. Not the way that you mean. John is planning on leaving, and he's going to do it kindly, and we'll part on good terms. And yet somehow that's more horrible than any other outcome I could ever imagine.

 "Don't be sorry," she said, and she looked at him. Her face was earnest, a little flushed from the wine. Her eyes were quite sad. "Don't be sorry."

 "Oh, are we having a Christmas party? Charming. I'll assume my invitation was lost in the mail." The voice was dry, unimpressed, unexpected.

 Sherlock whirled around.  Mycroft stood in the doorway, primly slipping off his gloves.

 "Why are you here? You hate Christmas. Go away."

 Mycroft raised his brows, a brief flicker of genuine surprise, and Sherlock felt an uncomfortable stab of remorse for his sharpness.

 Mild remorse.

 In the kitchen, a cheerful shout, a clinking of glasses. Mrs Hudson's tinkling laughter. Behind him, a rustle of fabric as Molly moved away from the fire, went to join the others.

 "Don't fret, Sherlock, I'm not here to crash your little 'do," Mycroft cast a dubious glance around the room. "Merely dropping off a bit of seasonal cheer, and I'll be on my way."

 Sherlock scowled. "Seasonal cheer? What—a gift? You? You've bought presents? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

 "One present," Mycroft said. "Only one. Well—two, I suppose, if you insist on being precise. I've always rather considered them a matched set, myself."

 Sherlock brushed past him, went out onto the landing. His gaze fell on a large shopping bag tucked against the wall. He glanced up, frowned at the bland expression on Mycroft's face. He could tell nothing of the contents of the bag, nothing of its origin. There were creases in Mycroft's trousers where he'd sat in the back of a too-warm car, a smattering of crumbs from a late lunch clinging to his suit jacket. Nothing else. No hints.

 He looked away. Bent to rummage in the bag.

 His fingers came up against familiar wool. He froze. Blinked. Curled his hands around the fabric without withdrawing it from the bag.

 "They—" his voice was hoarse, barely audible. He cleared his throat, tried again. "They don't make this. Anymore."

 "I know," Mycroft said. "Lucky for you, I took note of your careless nature years ago and procured—replacements. Just in case. You do tend to grow attached."

 Sherlock shut his eyes, breathed out hard through clenched teeth. Stood up and let the full length of the coat spill out of the bag. There was a scarf draped around the neck; dark blue cashmere.

 "I am infinitely glad that you are all right, Sherlock," Mycroft said quietly.

 The wool was brighter than he remembered, untouched by years of London grime and rain and blood. It smelled new, unfamiliar. It would need to be broken in, a bit, so that it fell just so.

 Still, it was—it was—

 He gripped the wool tightly, stared at it. As a child, given such a gift, he might have embraced it and then Mycroft in turn.

 "Stay," he said, instead. "You should stay. Have a drink."

#sherlock december ficlets #angst with a happy ending #eventual johnlock

[silentauroriamthereal]

Hey SA I've just seen you reblogged a post about goodbyes in the show and I so would like to know your opnion on this. Do you think the cane scene was in character for John? Tbh I think his character was very OOC in S4 but I'd like to know your opinion on this. Yours are the only fanfic I read post-s4 I really trust you with my heart. Thank you!

Okay, just as a disclaimer, because I really, really don’t want anyone to think the opposite here, I absolutely love John Watson. Please don’t be confused about that. That said, he’s got some massive issues. 

Unfortunately, I do see the cane scene as in character, but I’m also one of those annoying people that would say that there’s a huge range of what could be considered “in character” for every human, you know? I’m just as much myself when I’m being a total dick as when I’m being the best version of myself. One end of the spectrum is not truer than the other. John is just as much John when he’s doing that soft, gentle, tender gaze, like at Sherlock and Mrs Hudson in ASIB as he is when he’s physically hurting Sherlock. Unfortunately, they chose to draw out the ugliest aspects of John’s personality in series 4, showcasing his damage far more than his heroism and the beautiful soul that he also is underneath those trust issues and unspent, ultimately inward-pointing anger and guilt and sense of inadequacy. Walking out when things get difficult is very much consistent with his behaviour from series 1 forward: look at his little domestic with Sherlock in TGG: Sherlock is being insulting and difficult, and instead of trying to talk through it or ask deeper questions, or even just argue it out, John gets up and leaves. 

I would say that it’s canon that he also left Mary after she shot Sherlock. I don’t see how anyone could possibly have maintained “months of silence” while occupying the same space. It just isn’t possible. For a few weeks, maybe, but months of genuine silence? No way. John wasn’t there. To his credit, and this is a big thing, John doesn’t stay mad. His capacity to handle things blowing up in his face is rather limited, but give him time and he’ll go back and give it another go. It took him 24 hours after Sherlock returned. Even when he thought the bearded old man was Sherlock playing a prank, he was laughing in spite of himself and clearly, overtly disappointed when it turned out not to be Sherlock. So he went back. The fact that it took him six months to return to Mary says a lot in terms of how reluctant he was to do it. I hate that he did it, but I get that the weight of his sworn word and the impending arrival of his child were the sole driving factors there, rather than love for Mary herself. His extreme reluctance and over promise of continuing anger during that scene hardly made for a cozy little reunion scene (I once saw an interview where Gatiss referred to it as “so tender and moving” or some crap like that, but that’s a rage post for another day!). The point is, given time to sort himself out, John goes back. He goes back to therapy even when he thinks it isn’t working. For all that Mrs Hudson had to bully him into it (he wasn’t ready and that wasn’t right!), John did finally agree to see and treat Sherlock. He would have gone back. That’s as much in his character as his preponderance for leaving is. 

Furthermore, while it’s ugly that he leaves, I also find it entirely understandable. This is someone who has a history of familial issues, estranged from everyone except a sister, with whom he shares a barely-tolerated relationship. He was in an active war zone: say no more. His superior officer, on whom he clearly had at least a bit of a hero complex for (and I personally don’t see anything else there, but that’s also plenty!), let him down and shut him out. Life had already betrayed John over and over and over again by the point that he met Sherlock. And Sherlock, for all of his intellectual brilliance, had never allowed himself to have a relationship so close that he might actually want to consider the other person’s feelings. He was clumsy and a slow learner and I think it took him a long time to see that John’s feelings needed better care than he was equipped to understand or give at the time. Their shared sense of inappropriate humour always had that edge to it, and while John is mentally healthy, I think he loves it (and I think that that’s why, when Sherlock faltered in the restaurant upon seeing John again and hastily revised his ill-conceived plan, that he turned to the one thing he thought he could rely on, this shared humour) but when he’s having one of his bad times, it cuts sharply. I think that he understands the genuine affection behind it, and when Sherlock said everything he said in his wedding speech, I think he was honestly shocked to hear it expressed so directly. He does know how much Sherlock thinks of him, how much he relies on him, and that any light jokes to the contrary are genuinely jokes. With Mary, on the other hand, they weren’t actually jokes and he knew it. They’ve always had communication problems, ones that lead to living out what they want from each other in the worst ways possible, but the love behind it is a real thing. Their actions only hurt each other so badly because of that very yearning there, one that neither of them seems able to express, or willing to take the risk to express. It’s a truly damaged relationship and they’ve both been damaged by it. As someone who absolutely believes in their love, and in the capacity for them to love hugely, deeply, and without reserve, it hurts to say that. Nevertheless, I do believe that with all of my being. 

I’ve joked that my new “kink” since series 4 is getting them both some therapy. I’ve written more therapy in stories since Christmas than ever before! Since series 4 started airing, I’ve written These Four Walls & Exile (after TST), Where My Demons Hide (John goes back to Ella), Now That the Dust Has Settled (We Can See the Stars), and A Satellite Out of Orbit (told from Ella’s POV in which she sees Sherlock during TLD), (after TLD), and then after TFP: A Case for Domestic Propinquity, Hell Hath No Fury (John goes back to Ella), From the Bottom of the Well (John goes back to Ella), Bridging the Ravine & Set in Stone (which take place at a resort for same-sex couples needing group and one-on-one relationship counselling). I think they need help. I also think that one of them could finally come to his senses and realise one day that they need to talk, and talk properly. I take back what I said about my biggest canon frustration being the way John leaves Sherlock: it’s definitely Moftiss never having once allowed them to have a direct, honest, and complete conversation. (Sometimes direct, sometimes honest, but never complete!) I think that they could get there on their own. It’s possible. It just hasn’t happened yet. 

That said, remember this: in opera we always say that the opera never takes place on the day that nothing happened. Remember all of those other days we aren’t shown: we can safely assume that alllll of those other days, and these are the majority by far, they lived together, cooking and taking out the trash and taking turns in the bathroom (that model of house would rarely have had a third bathroom on the third storey; that’s where the servants would have lived and they’d have used an outdoor privy at the time when this model of house was built, and the other bathroom would be in Mrs Hudson’s suite). They’d have taken cases and gone for midnight dinners at the Chinese restaurant on the corner and laughed at all of the wrong times and provoked speculation from anyone and everyone who ever saw them together. They’d have complained about their respective siblings and been a little nicer to each other every time one or the other was having a bad day. Think of Sherlock buying John beer after things with Sarah ended, according to John’s blog. Think of John, on his honeymoon, yet unable to just stop communicating regularly with Sherlock. They’re a damaged team, but nonetheless a team. Think of Sherlock knowing John so well that he could even predict that John would choose to leave him again, and how. They know each other in ways that no one else ever will, and I stand by that. 

I hope that helps? :)

#sherlock #john watson #johnlock #they're so damaged but there's still hope #unrepentant shipper here #lilbeelocked

[selfiealien-moved]

The One Who Felt Too Much: Chapter 1/??

Read it on AO3

Summary: "What a pair we make eh? The one who feels too much, and the one who doesn't feel enough." She said with a humourless laugh.

"And which one am I, I wonder?" It's said sarcastically, but there is a genuine curiosity there.

"You know, I'm not quite sure I know anymore." ---

Anna Dawson learned at a young age she felt more than most. She felt far more intensely, and often picked up on other's too. As she grew and embraced her ability, she soon learned how predictable people could be once you knew their feelings. 

When she met someone with a similar set of skills well, she couldn't just let him walk out of her life now could she?

A/N: I don't know how I feel about this but well, I really wanted to write something exploring how different it would be if not only we added in another person to Sherlock, but also they were an INFJ. The most feeling people in the world. I wondered how Sherlock would be having one as a friend, and thus this fic was born. Hope you like it!

“Look Sherlock, you really don’t have to do this. I can figure something else out.” The brunette argued, as though no one else was in the room but her and Sherlock.

This was far from the truth. They were in the lunchroom at Bart’s, Molly and Mike Stamford were currently sitting with them.

“You have no job, no money and no friends in this city except me. What makes you think you can find a place to stay?” He said, in his usual snobbish manner that made most people want to punch him.

“Sherlock, it is going to be bloody impossible to find someone willing to not only put up with you, but also a freeloader.” She replied, more patient than anyone ever had any right to be when speaking with Sherlock Holmes. Probably due to the near fifteen years of experience she had under her belt.

“You’re not freeloading. Once you get a job you are paying your rent, and you’re helping with cases- well I say helping-“ He was silenced with a glare from the woman. Clearing his throat he tried again. “Besides, Mrs Hudson gave us a deal. It may be difficult, but not impossible, Anna.” He said in the voice he usually reserved for when he thought you were being particularly stupid.

So, his usual tone.

Anna stared at him for a moment, knowing he was right, and simply not willing to admit it. Or perhaps she had just run out of arguments… More likely she was debating if it was worth it to slap him. No one in the room was quite sure. When it was evident she was not replying, Mike Stamford chose that moment to speak up.

“Well I best be off. Bright minds and all.”

The glares exchanged between Anna and Sherlock were enough incentive to get out of there immediately.

Molly, ever the bright spot spoke up. “Um, once you’re finished I’ve got a body you might like to see Sherlock.” Just like that, the tension in the room subsided.

—————

Anna stood off to the side as Molly and Sherlock spoke about the body, knowing she would be no help. She had picked up a few things from Sherlock and her own research but certainly not enough to help with his experiments on the dead. Her skills could only be used on the living.

Lost in thought, she only caught the end of their conversation.

“We’ll start with the riding crop.”

She waited just outside with Molly as he beat the body.

“Is he being particularly aggressive today or is that just me?” Anna asked Molly as they watched him. Really it wasn’t often Anna wanted to look away so badly when he was experimenting.

“Bad day?” Molly asked, looking all too amused and attracted to the sight, but even she flinched slightly at the sight.

Anna nodded. “He’s annoyed with The Yard for not giving him a new case. S’why I brought him here, he was driving me barmy.”

They both looked up as the sound stopped. “Looks like he’s done. Better go check on him.” Molly said. Anna followed her back in the room.

“Bad day was it?” Molly asked again.

“I need to know when these bruises form, a mans alibi depends on it.”

“Listen, I was wondering maybe later…” Anna watched them with interest. Maybe this time it was finally going to-

“Are you wearing lipstick? You weren’t wearing lipstick before.” Sherlock said, and internally Anna cringed.

“I uh- I refreshed it a bit.” Molly replied. Sherlock accepted the answer, but Anna knew that face, he wasn’t really buying it. He also wasn’t going to question it, yet at least.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee.”

“Black. Two sugars please, I’ll be upstairs.” Anna sighed internally as she watched him walk away.

“Anna, are you coming? Get a move on!” Sherlock said, turning back to Anna for a moment and turning right back around to continue walking.

“I’ll be there in a mo. I’m just going to get a coffee as well.” Anna replied. Sherlock didn’t look happy, but he nodded and walked away.

Anna turned to Molly, offering a comforting smile. “At least he said please this time.”

Molly smiled politely back at Anna and nodded. “He is learning his manners. Is that your doing then?”

“A bit.” Anna replied, walking toward the door. “I mean, its only took fifteen plus years to get him to say please. Maybe one day I’ll even get him to say thank you… Not sarcastically.”  She and Molly both laughed. “Really though, I think its you, Molly Hooper. He’s always marginally nicer to you. At least, his version of nice. Remember when he ran that background check on your last date?” She pressed the button to the elevator and after a bit of a wait, they walked in.

They both looked amused, though she could tell Molly was still a bit annoyed. “I appreciate his concern, but I really didn’t need to know about a B&E he got when he was fifteen. We all did silly things then.” They stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway.

“Yeah, like Sherlock actually spoke to a girl and she decided to become his best friend. Hasn’t let go of him since. Big mistake on his part.” She joked, though Molly was sure there was something else there. “Really though, I’m sorry he keeps screwing up your dates. It’s just how he shows he cares, in his own… Sherlock way.”

“Has he ever broken up one of your dates?” Molly asked.

Anna thought for a moment. “I mean I haven’t dated much since we became friends. Not too many people want to deal with our favourite high functioning sociopath. However, back when we were probably about sixteen he broke up one of my dates. Saved my life actually. He had deduced the guy had less than honourable intentions, lets just say that.” Anna said, entering the cafeteria and making her coffee. Two sugars, and a touch of milk.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Molly said in that awkward Molly voice she always used when she wanted to comfort you, but wasn’t quite sure how. It was endearing, really.

“Unfortunately its a harsh reality. I hadn’t really wanted to go out with him anyhow, I got a bad vibe off him, I just was so afraid of being rude then. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings if he did mean well.” She sighed. “After that day though, I became the thorn in his side. Never left, never really wanted to. Still not sure why he decided I was worth his time, but he did. We became inseparable, but you already know that part of the story.” Anna closed her cup and took a sip.

“Yeah.” Molly replied, focusing on making Sherlocks coffee.

Anna twisted her lips as she watched Molly. “I’d say spit in it, but I know you’re just too nice.” Anna said with a shake of her head.

Molly laughed. “Oh hush, you’re all talk. You and I both know you’re too nice too.”

“You got me there. We should both really learn how to stand up for ourselves.” She took another sip. “You gonna make yourself a cup?”

“I prefer tea, besides I don’t really want-“

“Nonsense. Make yourself a cuppa. My treat. It’s the least I can do since my friend’s being a wanker… as always.”

Molly laughed. “Alright.”

———

After a pitstop to the washroom to wipe off Molly’s lipstick, they entered into the lab.

“Ah, Molly. Coffee.”

Anna looked at the stranger, but stood with Molly. He probably was a case or a friend of Mike’s or something.

“What happened to the lipstick?” He asked.

“Wasn’t working for me.” Molly replied frankly.

“Thats too bad. Mouth’s too small now.” Molly blinked at him, smiling the way she always did when she tried not to let a comment get to her.

Anna leaned in close to Molly. “That was his attempt at a compliment you know.” Molly nodded slightly.

Anna walked over to Sherlock after giving Molly’s arm a squeeze. Molly uttered a small “Ok.” and walked out. Anna felt bad, but her attention was pulled back to Sherlock immediately.

“Do you like the violin?” He asked the blond man. Anna blinked, where was he going with this? “I tend to play it hours on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” Anna blinked again. They actually found a potential flatmate?

The blond man looked at Mike. “You told him about me.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, not a word.” Mike replied.

Anna sighed, she knew where this was going.

“Then who said anything about flatmates?”

“I did. Well, Anna and I did. We were arguing over getting a flatmate. She said it would be impossible to find a flatmate willing to put up with the two of us. I said it would be difficult but not impossible. Mike was there, and now he shows up with an old friend clearly just back from military service in Afghanistan, it wasn’t a difficult leap.”

“How did you know about Afghanistan?”

Anna cringed. Nope, there was no way this guy was going to agree to get a flat.

“Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We’ll meet there tomorrow evening, seven o’clock. Got to dash I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.”

Anna sighed and dashed after him as he walked to the door.

“Is that it?” The man asked.

“Is that what?”

“We’ve only just met and we’re going to look at a flat?” Well, what else did he expect from going to a potential flatmate? Anna wondered.

Sherlock looked perplexed as he looked from Anna to Mike then back to the man. “Problem?”

“We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t even know your name.”

“I know you’re a military doctor and you’ve been sent home from Afghanistan. I know you have a brother who’s worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you disapprove of him. Maybe because he’s an alcoholic, more likely because he’s walked out on his wife. I also know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic. Quite right I’m afraid. It’s enough to go off on don’t you think?” He gave the smallest smile and stalked back to the door.

“I’m sorry about him.” Anna whispered to the man, who’s name she still hadn’t learned. “He means well.” Usually.

Sherlock walked out, peaking round the door. “The name’s Sherlock Holmes, address 221B baker street.” He walked out.

“My name’s Anna. I’ll be your second flatmate. And I better dash too, because I have no idea what he’s up to at the moment, and he’ll leave without me.” She dashed out the door and joined Sherlock.

“What did you think?”  Sherlock asked her, barely even sparing a glance.

She didn’t need clarification. “Seems like a decent enough guy. Didn’t seem as pissed off as most people do after you read them, though he still looked annoyed. All in all, I think he just might come tomorrow.”

“Might?” He raised his eyebrow.

“You know I don’t work in certainties. Feelings are never certain, Sherlock.” To her surprise, he had no remark, simply nodded.

“Thats why I work without feelings.” Anna rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re not stone Sherlock, even if you pretend to be. Besides, you’ve been working with me, and I am basically just feelings.”

“Thats different.” Sherlock replied, using his annoyed voice again.

“How so?” Anna asked with a humourless chuckle in her voice.

“You don’t let feelings control you. And you can read others emotions, sometimes even feel them. If you mix it with my deductive skills you can almost certainly know what someone will do next. You help narrow more possibilities.” It was the kindest thing he’d said to her in a long time, she wondered what the motive was.

“Hardly. You understand emotion, even if you don’t feel it quite as strongly as other’s. You can still predict some things.”

“Not as accurately.” He replied frankly.

“I suppose.” She shook her head. “Now, what was that about a man’s alibi?” She couldn’t help but smile at the grin that crossed his face.

“It’s not as juicy as a murder, but it’s a definite eight….”

#this will eventually be sherlolly i promise #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #john watson #molly hooper #oc #fanfic #my writing

[goingagainstthetide]

Is John truly such a good friend for Sherlock?

As I see it, John Watson has been behaving quite badly toward Sherlock in the past two seasons.

Let’s start with The Empty Hearse: he phisically attacks Sherlock three times. Now, I get it was funny, I get Sherlock was an ass, I get John’s was angry, but three times, getting more violent with each attack?

Then His Last Vow...so many things here:

-In the scene after Sherlock escapes from the hospital, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and him wonder who Sherlock would protect in a way (as I saw it) that 1) proved they don’t know what Sherlock did for them; 2) they don’t think Sherlock would go to such lenghts to protect someone.

-During the John-Mary confrontation in Baker Street, John threatens to make Sherlock shut up without a single thought about his health. Yes, he was angry and shocked, but he is a doctor, he made a vow to save lives. Sherlock “looks terrible” (Mrs Hudson notices it), he asks for morphine (proof if needed that he is in great pain), he looks about to faint, and the only thing John can do is to threaten him!

-The final good bye...John’s lack of gratitude. Yes, he doesn’t know Sherlock is being sent to suicide mission. And yes, let’s presume John doesn’t really believe he won’t see Sherlock again, but he doesn’t even bother to say a small, miserable thank you for what he did to ensure he and Mary will have a happy life with their child.

- The Six Thatchers: here is there I forgive John’s more because he is in shock.

- The Lying Detective. Once again John’s is angry and 1) doesn’t care about Sherlock’s health; 2) phisically attacks Sherlock (I found the beating scene very hard to watch as John  was completely out of control); 3) he is ready to abandon Sherlock conveniently forgetting everything Sherlock did for him along the years. It is only when he hears Mary’s video and realizes what Sherlock did for him that he changes attitude.

Is this the way to treat your best friend? The man you not long ago you begged “not to be dead”? The man that “saved you”? That man who took a bullet and almost died because your wife shot him? The man who risked internal bleeding and a cardial arrest to make sure you were safe from your assassin wife and then did everything he could to make you patch up with said wife? The man who shot the blackmailer who would ruin your whole life?

No, it’s not. John Watson has a serious problem of anger management. When he is angry about something, he completely loses his mind and cannot see anything else but his own pain and anger. He is also ungrateful and egoistical.

While Sherlock, who passes for the most self-centered being out there, is instead the most generous of men with the persons he cares about when they are in danger or in need. Look at everything he did for John and Mary! And also for for Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, because nobody will make me believe the version of the Fall he gave to Anderson is the true one. His tears and fear on that rooftop where real, so he was, at least, unsure that whatever plan he had would actually work.

And also look at this latest episode, Sherlock is ready to forget what happened...He took the beating John gave him as if he though he deserved it. He predicted John would decide not to see him anymore (and leave the cane as memento) and accepted it. He is ready to comfort John in the end and does everything he can to make John feels better.

I get the impression that since Sherlock never had a real friend before he is considering John’s “friendly (but in truth not friendly at all)” behaviour as normal for a friend, but someone else would have already told John to get a grip and change attitude.

[tweedlefan]

Sherlock season 4 (spoilers under the cut)

This season was an odd one for me. It was the first season that I had to wait through hiatus for. It was also the first season where I watched all the episodes online (legally) instead of on tv as they aired. I wasn’t particularly excited for this season, as I was less than impressed with the Abominable Bride and my tolerance for Moffatisms grows weaker by the year. But I didn’t go in with negative expectations either. (episode titles are bolded as I talk about them so you can only read as far as you’ve watched if you like)

The Six Thatchers... annoyed me. Sherlock’s drug habits seem to have transformed him into the childish quirky genius type that I had hoped we were finished dealing with when Matt Smith’s Doctor left us. This is played for comedy of course, because there’s nothing funnier than a drug addict relapsing, amiright?? The fact that this behavior is followed by THE most convoluted and nonsensical plot to date (there were three British women working for the team, but this guy randomly decided it must have been Mary?) results in an episode that was difficult to watch start to finish.

Now, I liked Mary. Yes, she was another Moffat stereotype but I liked that John had someone in his life who actually bothered to make sure he was okay once in a while. I liked the dynamic she introduced and she was only annoyed me sometimes. I don’t like that she was killed. I don’t like how she was killed. I don’t like this shitty feeling I have that she was killed so we could have more queerbaiting. But it happened and it’s time to move on to the next episode.

The Lying Detective was a better episode than the last one. Forgiving some strange editing I think the story made sense and the audience was actually given clues as to what was happening. You know, clues. The foundation of detective stories. I like those. Unfortunately, once again Sherlock’s drug use is having no negative side affects beside making him act kind of silly and worrying his loved ones. You think maybe it’s affecting his judgement and making him attack innocent people? Nope! He was right the whole time. Drugs don’t make you hallucinate or misremember things, that wouldn’t be silly enough. 

Apparently death does make you insane though. Mary’s request that Sherlock put himself in harm’s way to make John save him is not only ridiculous and irresponsible, it relies on Sherlock being smart enough to make sure John is in the damn room when it happens which obviously is asking too much of him. I understand that you need to add drama to your show, but Sherlock would have been dead if Mycroft, John, and Mrs. Hudson hadn’t done precisely what they did when they did it. And no, I’m not buying that it’s possible for Sherlock (whose defining character flaw is supposed to be that he doesn’t understand human interactions) to accurately predict exactly how humans are going to interact.

I know I’ve bashed this episode but I will say this: I enjoyed it. The tense parts made me tense, the sad parts made me sad, and the happy parts didn’t upset me too badly. I’ll forgive John for guilting himself into staying with Sherlock if it means he can be happy for a minute. Oh, and the Sherrinford twist really got me.

And now, The Final Problem. Let’s get this out of the way right now: I didn’t think it was a bad episode. In fact, it was possibly my favorite episode of the season. Now, as an episode of the BBC television program Sherlock is was horrendous, but as a whumpy Sherlock/Saw crossover fic that somehow got produced for television I liked it a lot. It was dramatic, tense, at least to me it mostly made sense, and it played with the characters in a way where I would forgive a fan for going a bit Out of Character. Boy would I be disappointed if this were written by Moffat and Gatiss instead of my mother though!

Because it’s just not a Sherlock episode. Maybe the fact that we don’t know what’s happening until the end would have added to the atmosphere if we had actually been watching a detective show this season. Maybe the plot twists would have felt more solid if we’d been given any kind of foreshadowing, or if they hadn’t half-assedly tried to make it seem like this had been planned from the beginning. Maybe Eurus would have seemed more frightening if Sherlock and Mycroft hadn’t both been introduced as being just as careless. Maybe Moriarty being involved wouldn’t have felt cheap if... no, I think that was always going to feel cheap.

This team is once again treating its characters like props. Mycroft already has blood on his hands and he’s rational enough to know that hiring a team of assassins is just as bad as shooting a man yourself, but it wouldn’t be angsty enough to have your coldly rational characters actually act frighteningly. That might have made it more obvious that Euros is related to them, and we can’t have villains actually feel personal can we? And then he’s thrown away at the end because of course he is. And why bother tying up Molly’s feelings? We’ll just show that everything’s okay in the epilogue. No big conversation to have there. Nope, Molly’s just totally okay and wasn’t completely emotionally manipulated (by the way, did it make any sense that Sherlock was supposed to know there wasn’t a bomb?). Sherlock himself has been out of character for so long I can’t even tell if this episode did him well or not.

In the end, season 4 is majorly flawed. I don’t think anyone will disagree with that. While it had its moments this writing team is just not fun anymore. We as an audience can only suspend our disbelief so far and those limits are being tested in even the most forgiving fans. I really do feel like Moffat’s writing comes off as very fanfiction-y no matter what he’s doing. And I know we’ve all read some amazing fanfic, but I mean the kind where you go “that’s great, but I’d be really mad if it was canon.” And that’s it. I’m mad that this is canon.

#sherlock bbc #read more #it's only me #i believe in queue #sherlock season 4