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ebaeschnbliah · 4 years

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VATICAN CAMEOS

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‘Vatican Cameos’ is a well known phrase in Sherlock BBC. It’ s Sherlock’s secret code word to warn against some imminent life-threatening danger. The code is used three times in total:

First by Sherlock in ASIB when he is about to open Irene’s safe where she keeps her camera phone, guarded by ‘explosives’.

Second by Sherlock in TSOT when he is about to connect the last dots regarding the Mayfly Man case, the invisible man with the invisible knife, and what this means for Major Sholto.

Third by John in TFP when he learns that Eurus is able to ‘reprogramme’ people. Sherlock doesn’t pay attention to him though. He has just played Irene’s theme on his violin and is about to touch the wall of glass which seperates him from Eurus.

The word ‘cameo’ has different meanings. It can be a piece of jewellery, like a gem or small medallion, often with a profiled head carved in stone or some other hard material. The word is also used for small literary or filmic pieces or small theatrical roles. It looks like both meanings - ‘carved in stone’ as well as ‘small guest appearance’ - could apply to the wording ‘Vatican Cameos’ in Sherlock BBC, in a metaphorical reading of the story.

TBC below the cut …

Two restaurants lit by fire and flame

At Angelo’s ...

In the unaired PILOT/ASIP, Sherlock and John wait at Angelo’s restaurant for serial killer Hope. It’s the first time both men work together on a case. From the fireless mantlepiece right next to their candlelit table, a silent watcher observes the beginning of their relationship. It’s the bust of a pope (x x).

ANGELO: Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free. All on the house, you and your date. … Anything on the menu, I cook it for you myself.

A pope, head of the Vatican and supreme keeper of an unrelenting belief, is present at the first ‘date’ of two men, is forced to watch silently, how they fall in love with each other … while a living, breathing ‘angel’ isn’t only ready to serve them food and drink … no, the ‘angel’ even offers to cook the meal himself for free … everything they desire.

The ‘angel’, literally, lights the fire between Sherlock and John with the remark, that this would be much more romantic for a first date. The whole scene seems to be drenched in a yellow light.

Maybe also worth noticing ... the bust of the pope has been put on the same place at the mantlepiece as the skull in 221b.

At the Cross Keys Inn ...

Sherlock and John have rooms at the Cross Keys Inn near Baskerville. They meet in front of the blazing fireplace after Sherlock’s first encounter with the monstrous hound in Dewer’s Hollow. A heart adorns the mantlepiece right over the flickering flames.

The owners of the Cross Keys Inn are Billy and Gary, a gay couple. They have a dog which they couldn’t bring themselves to put down. A sign with ‘vacancies’ written on it, is placed above the statue of a hound. In the pigeonholes beneath, some lovely old fashioned keys seem only to wait for their task to open doors into equally lovely rooms. Bottles of wine are placed at both sides of the keys, the hound and the sign.

The name of the restaurant - Cross Keys - is a deliberate choice by the creators of this story (X) and it seems they really knew quite well what they were doing by choosing precisely this name. The image of two crossed keys features most prominently in the coat of arms of the Vatican, crowned by the papal tiara. This turns the Cross Keys Inn into another short ‘cameo appearance’ of the Vatican. The ‘crossed keys’ - the keys of heaven - have been given to a gay couple that provides food and drink and rooms for those, who want to fulfill those desires.

It isn’t new that these two characters are mirrors for Sherlock and John. (Follow the dog, Part 1 by @sagestreet ) Their names speak for themselves as well:

Billy is short for William, like William Sherlock Scott Holmes

Gary contains the germanic element ‘ger’ meaning ‘spear’

The ‘crossed keys’ of the Vatican

The flag of the Vatican, the papal colours, are yellow and white. They mirror the colours of the keys. The silver key symbolizes the pope's earthly power and the gold one represents god's divine power. The mechanisms of the keys (the bit/beard that unlocks) is turned up towards heaven, their grips are facing downward to show that they were given into the hands of the pope by god.

In heraldry ...

gold (Or) is mostly depicted as yellow and linked to the sun and faith, representd by the topaz (aspects linked to John and his mirrors)

silver (Argent) is mostly depicted as white and linked to the moon and purity, represented by the pearl (aspects linked to Sherlock and his mirrors)

The Vatican’s crossed keys represent the metaphorical keys of the office of Saint Peter, also known as the ‘keys of heaven’. They are the symbol of papal authority. Peter recived the keys and alongside with them, the power of binding and loosing was also commited to him. (Sources: X X )

“I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven,” (Matthew 16:19:)

“What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder”

This phrase is very well known from wedding ceremonies. Marriage, also called ‘the holy matrimony’, is one of the seven sacraments in catholic church. It is a convenant by which two people establish between themselves a partnership of the whole life. And to this day, the Vatican decides which type of partnership is legal and blessed and which one is a sin and damned. A view, carved in stone and unchangeble, it seems.

Faith, Hope and Love

Those three aspects, closely related to deep emotions, are also known as the three theological virtues. In christianity they are associated with the ‘salvation resulting from the grace of god’ (x).

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13)

The three virtues - hope, faith and love - are also an important part of the rosary prayer. The first three Hail Mary’s at the beginning of the litany are dedicated to them by ending each one of the verses with … ‘and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, …

... who increases faith in us.’

... who strengthens hope in us.’

... who ignites love in us.’

The creators of Sherlock BBC took a rather special and original way to include those three virtues and Mary’s pregnancy into their story.

HOPE - is the name of the serial killer in ASIP, who offers two sorts of pills (chemistry), a good one and a bad one. One of his victims is the pink lady who had once been in ‘good hope’. But then her daughter Rachel was stillborn. Rachel is the code word to track down Hope.

FAITH - is the name of the serial killer’s daughter in TLD (who’s also linked to chemistry). She appears in two different versions, both presented as mirrors for John. It turns out that in one of the two versions she is Eurus in disguise ... the ‘other one’ ... Sherlock’s long locked- up emotinal part.

LOVE - is used in its Latin translation ‘AMO’ (I love) as code name for the person who is Mycroft’s - the brains - superior. This code word is also used by a second person, Vivian Norbury, to influence the Tiblisi hostage incident - the ultimate cause for the ‘death’ of Rosamunnd Mary and the eventual ‘birth’ of Mary Morstan, which will leads to the birth of baby Rosamund Mary.

Three different stories and yet, each one is about ‘TWO’ (even ‘I love’ appears as AMO & AMMO) and the concepts of choice, death and rebirth. All of it linked to the love story of two men.

The yellow thread

The colour yellow runs through the story told in Sherlock BBC, from the first series to the (by now) last:

This thread starts with Sherlock’s and John’s first ‘date’ at Angelo’s. The whole scene is drenched in yellow.

A secret code of ancient cyphers, sprayed in yellow paint, leads to the Yellow Dragon Circus.

Golden cats and big ‘yellow’ felines - lions - roam the story.

Yellow is the colour of the smiley face on the wall of the 221b living room.

There’s an assassin who carries a yellow ladder and a yellow tool case with a gun in it.

A bright yellow mask has been placed inside a box, alongside with a train, a phone, nicotin patches and a note.

The main colour of the wedding ... so much yellow. It’s the wedding that leads Sherlock to a revolutionary revelation and to a love deduction.

A canary trainer, a trainer of yellow birds, turns out to be the killer.

The Norbury case from canon, known as the case of the ‘yellow face’, plays a vital role in an episode.

The finish of a race is marked with a bright yellow band that floats slowly to the ground while a serial killer passes as winner.

Yellow is the colour of the sun, of fire and flames.

Yellowbeard ….

Yellow and white, gold and silver - are the colours of the Vatican. Colours that represent unchangeable tradition, stubborn persistance and inflexibility. Sherlock BBC links those colours stongly to John and Sherlock. The conductor of light, the fierce lion on the one hand and and the man in the moon, the virgin in the white sheet on the other hand.

A pope, carved in stone, is forced to witness how two men fall in love. The crossed keys of heaven are given into the hands of a loving gay couple. The christian virtues of hope, faith and love become a core element in that story of change and rebirth. What might the colour yellow stand for in Sherlock BBC?

What if it becomes the colour of victory for a much too long forbidden love?

Speculative addition: nuns versus Dracula

In case Dracula BBC is somehow related to Sherlock BBC, which role might have been given to the nuns? As catholic nuns, will they turn out to be another ‘vatican cameo’? After all, nuns do have great significance in Sherlock BBC since the beginning. There are the ‘headless nuns’ from PILOT and TSOT and furthermore, sister is just another word for nun. I’ve tried to follow the trail of those nuns/sisers in ‘The Roads we walk have demons beneath’.

Inspired by the comments on this post some time ago and the last bit by the new trailer for Dracula BBC. I leave you to your own deductions.

For more ‘vatican cameos’ try A CHRISTMAS TALE

December, 2019

#vatican cameos #the pope #crossed keys #yellow #sherlock bbc #metaphorical reading #pics edited #nuns #dracula bbc

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

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Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is!

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him.

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times) Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”

“Aye!”

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

—Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2

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notagarroter · 5 years

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Sherlock Survey

No one tagged me or asked me to do this, and I'm not going to bother asking you to suggest a fandom, since obviously I only care about Sherlock haha. (Stolen from @marcceh )

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My favorite Episode: ohhh this is so hard. ASiB is just so perfectly wrought, but TGG has some of my very favoritist scenes, but HLV is the one that grips me and thrills me from beginning to end, but TRF has all that amazing Moriarty, and TSoT's wedding speech is such a tour de force of acting and writing, and then TAB blew my mind in so many ways -- but I think I'm going to have to go with The Lying Detective. From the moment I read the canon story, I was so eager to see what Moftiss would do with it, and they did not disappoint at all. Funny and beautiful and tragic and grotesque, it's Sherlock at its most over-the-top, pull-out-all-the-stops baroque, and I adore it.

My least Favorite Episode: I hate to be negative about anything Sherlock related, but let's just say that THoB and TFP were two episodes where I probably would have made some different artistic choices. Minor tweaks, really.

My favorite Arc: I guess I'd go with the arc I described in this series of metas, where Sherlock has to move from an Enlightenment-style man of Rationality and Pure Reason to grudgingly accepting a more post-structuralist worldview, where truth is unstable and irrationality a force to be reckoned with. Which I think he finally fully embraces in S4, hypothesizing that the drugs opened his mind to useful hallucinations... and then with Eurus, who shows that pure reason and logic can themselves begin to look like madness.

My least favorite Arc: ummm probably Mrs Hudson's? I like that she's more than she seems at first glance, but her bad-ass-ness went a tiny bit over the top for me in S4.

My favorite ship: oh gosh, I hate to choose. I think in a lot of ways Marylock is fun for me because I got in on the ground floor of that one... I got to see fans all around me starting to admit to themselves and each other the powerful chemistry between Sherlock and Mary, and I wrote some very early headcanons for it. But I also really love Johnlockary, because they are all so right for each other and so wrong at the same time, which is delightful for a writer to dig into. But when I watch the show, the ship that always dazzles me is Sheriarty, and I can never understand why it doesn't get talked about more. There's just so much sparking erotic energy there, I can never get over it.

My favorite character: sherrrrrrrrrrlock, always and forever. but I love everyone else so much too! the show just wouldn't be right without any of them.

My favorite season: oof, another tough one. Okay, in terms of most flawless season from beginning to end, with practically no weak spots, I have to go with S3. I just feel like Moftiss really nailed that one, and each episode is a brilliant tour de force -- TEH is funny and quirky with lots of postmodern flourishes; TSoT is sunny and brilliant and clever but with this deep undercurrent of melancholy, and then HLV just smacks you in the face over and over with twists and shocks and heart-racing thrills. (And then TAB comes along and destabilizes everything so brilliantly, but I suppose it doesn't really count as belonging to any season.)

My least favorite: Oh, I really do love them all, but... gun to my head, I guess I'd say S1? Just because we're still getting to know the characters and the world, so it's just not quite as wild as the later series... though it's getting there in TGG, especially by the pool scene.

Who I wish would have stayed till the end: Hmm I think moftiss have as much trouble saying goodbye to great characters as fans do, so no one ever really goes away on this show lol. But I do wish we had seen Sally and Anthea in S4. Oh, and Anderson.

Who I wish would have left the show sooner: Of the recurring characters? No one, really... But I wish they had just let Redbeard stay a dog, and maybe just kept it to the two references in S3.

Who I think is the most cheated character: Ummm Victor Trevor. I just really loved Victor Trevor in ACD canon, and I was looking forward to exploring that relationship in BBC-verse. But making him a little boy (who we only glimpse for a minute or two, and who doesn't have any lines) didn't really do any favors to the character. It made sense for the story they wanted to tell, but it was a missed opportunity to look at Sherlock's formative relationships before John.

Who got more screen time than they maybe should: Maybe Eurus would have been more effective in TFP if we'd seen a bit less of her? Like with Moriarty, part of why he is so scary and thrilling and fun is that he hardly has any scenes, but the ones we get have tremendous impact.

What drew me to it: Some friends put it on my radar, but this stellar review in the New Yorker is mostly why I finally sat down to watch. Well, that plus @elizabethminkel‘s article + personal essay about it in The Millions.

What kept me watching: Above all, the visuals. It's just much more dazzlingly well-shot than anything I'd seen on TV, though since then other shows have copied many of its techniques. But clever-yet-thoughtful writing makes it more than just a surface pleasure, and then Benedict's performance as Sherlock is simply addictive to watch.

If I would recommend it: I can't really recommend it anymore because I can't actually talk about it with anyone who isn't a superfan, for fear of looking like a crazed obsessive (which I am). I just don't think I'm the best spokesperson for the show at this point, lol. I'm more the wild-eyed acolyte.

#original post #sherlock #survey #meme #I invite anyone and everyone who has the time to do this

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ripleydude · 5 years

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I got bored today, so I decided to do this. Imma choose just 5 of the 30 prompts, because I’m lazy, but here’s the 5 that I liked:

1. Your Favorite Movie: Jurassic Park (1993)

12. Your Favorite Animated Movie: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Dinosaur (2000), or Big Hero 6 (2014)

23. Favorite Character(s) from Any Movie: Rexy and Blue from Jurassic World, Rocky Balboa, Caesar from the Planet of the Apes Trilogy, Indiana Jones, Ellie Sattler and JOHN WICK. JOHN FUCKING WICK.

22. Most Underrated Movie(s): Rise/Dawn/War of the Planet of the Apes (2011-17), 300 (2007), Dredd (2012), District 9 (2009), Prince of Persia: TSOT (2010), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), Edge of Tomorrow (2014) and Stardust (2007)

17. Best Movie You Saw in 2018: Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

I tag the following dorks: @the-punny-nerd-master, @a-fucking-hippie, @chemi-ghoul, @halcyon-butch, @gabilizarraga, @thedarkvixen, and @zigmata

#ENJOY YOU FUCKS #but seriously #i love you guys #movies #film stuff

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deadsquidstudios · 2 months

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New chapter is up!

#my fanfiction #squidbillies #adult swim #tsots verse #ao3

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bettereveryletter · 6 years

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little things from Hamilton West End that I didn’t notice the past times I’ve been

This is so overly long but last night is looking to be the last night I will have seen the original west end cast and I wanted to pick up on everything I could. Firstly, here’s the cast I saw:

Ash Hunter (Alternate Alexander Hamilton), Rachelle Ann Go (Eliza Hamilton), Giles Terera (Aaron Burr), Rachel John (Angelica Schuyler), Obioma Ugoala (George Washington), Jason Pennycooke (Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson), Tarinn Callender (Hercules Mulligan/James Madison), Cleve September (John Laurens/Philip Hamilton), Christine Allado (Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds), Michael Jibson (King George). Ensemble: Jade Albsersten, Johnny Bishop, Leslie Garcia Bowman, Courtney Mae Briggs, Jack Butterworth, Jon Scott Clarke, Leah Hill, Waylon Jacobs, Miriam-Teak Lee, Gabriel Mokake, and Lindsey Tierney.

-There was applause after Alexander Hamilton, I’ve finally witnessed it!

-Ash’ Burrs Corner in My Shot - “a bunch of revolutionary revolution revolutionists”

-Tarinn stealing Cleve’s mug in The Story Of Tonight and then them proceeding to do a bit about it

-Rachelle and Christine holding hands and looking so delightfully thrilled to be in New York in The Schuyler Sisters

-Christine is such a cute Peggy, she seems to be either annoyed at being left out, or very happy-go-lucky and sometimes childlike

-Applause and woops after “compel him to include women in the sequel” line!

-Cleve swiftly whipping Giles away for the distraction on the exact first “mercy” beat in Farmer Refuted

-Obi blocking the ‘letter’ being passed along by the ensemble during Right Hand Man, the last time I saw him on was February and he collected the ‘letter’ from them

-“we keep meeting”

-Ash’s super cocky grin on “that’s true!”

-Christine and Rachel holding hands and bopping during the “heys” at the start of Helpless

-I love that Peggy and Laurens dance together during Helpless because it means I get to watch my two favourite cast members at the same time

-Cleve persuading Rachel to get up and make her speech in Satisfied, after her laughing and shaking her head, by nodding and saying “yes! Go!”

-Christine and Rachelle’s eskimo kiss in Helpless/Satisfied

-Ash placing his hand on cleves chest, and cleve’s dramatic look down to it at the start of Meet Me Inside

-Ash nodding in agreement with Eliza at the end of That Would Be Enough

-Rachel’s Angelica in Satisfied, or Rachel John in general tbh

-the way cleve sung “let’s have another round” in tsot (reprise)

-overall rapport between Tarinn and Cleve

-tarinn randomly bear-hugging Ash on “wonders great and small”

-Tarinn’s verse in Yorktown!! Always!! Astounding!!

-My friend bursting into tears at the first note of Dear Theodosia

-the quiet “will you read it for me?” In The Laurens’ Interlude

-Jason encouraging applause like 4 times over in What’d I Miss?, and receiving it louder each time

-an elderly lady who was sat near me found every funny line absolutely hilarious and it was so endearing

-very close shave mic drop in Cabinet Battle #1

-cleve being all reluctant to play piano, and the stroppy, mimicking, “sept-huit-neuf”

-cleve ‘practicing’ the Philip rap with a piece of paper with ‘the lyrics’ in his hand, dropping it all flustered when ham comes over unexpectedly, then gradually sliding it away with his shoe mid-rap

-Christine is an incredible Maria, her voice is so mesmerising oh my god

-a red spotlight shining on Maria’s red dress

-Reynolds summoning Maria with a heel-click

-the room where it happens was amazing, Giles is incredible

-Rachelle looking miffed on “I’m sure he already knows” in Schuyler Defeated

-the audience’s utter amusement at the tantalising Burr at the beginning of Washington On Your Side

-air-punching of audience members during Cabinet Battle #2

-a man in the royal circle stood up after One Last Time, applause went on a while, and you could see Obi grinning from ear-to-ear and it was lovely

-mike making giles laugh at the start of The Adams Administration

-the way hurricane is ...choreographed? Blocked? I’m not sure what the word is but it’s super clever

-Cleve angrily screwing up The Reynolds Pamphlet and tossing it to the floor

-Ash’s riff on “slow down” during Blow Us All Away

-My friend whispering a subtle “oh no” at the end of Blow Us All Away

-Cleve writhing in pain during Stay Alive (Reprise) and Rachelle looking so, completely heartbroken. She nails grieving-Eliza.

-the way Ash sung “You knock me out I fall apart” in IQU

-giles’ subtle disbelief and betrayal when burr finds out ham supports jefferson in The Election of 1800

-complete audience silence as they’re enraptured during the monologue in The World Was Wide Enough

-rachel blowing a kiss at the end of curtain call and then pointing to the audience member so they knew it was for them

-Ash jumping on someone’s back to walk off the stage, I couldn’t see which cast member it was since I was too far over

-that was such a great show, shoot me a message if interested in full audio

#hamilton west end #hamilton london #hamilton #hamilton review #hamilton london review #hamilton west end review #giles terera #obioma ugoala #cleve september #christine allado #rachel john #jason pennycooke #tarinn callender #rachelle ann go #ash hunter

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marcelock · 6 years

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i literally never even noticed that moment before, its so hard to find. if the heart monitor wasnt there you wouldnt be able to tell it was backwards. i feel confident it was just an editing necessity with that kind of a minor error (which happens in shows all the time like lets be honest, bbc sherlock is above and beyond but ive noticed very tiny production errors before, its true! and most shows have them like all the time, if youve never edited video imo you dont fully understand it can just.. be like that sometimes. like yes im not as well versed as pros but still) which is justifiable with the concept of “sometimes reality bends around sherlock because we let his mind leak out like in ASIB and TSOT” + “sherlock is remembering how the love of his life’s wife just tried to kill him and hes angry and sad and the HEART thing is going BACKWARDS because idk negative emotions”. if i end up totally fucking wrong about this then cool, my face, meet egg, but holy shit

#ive been hearing about this for years and never saw it and now that i have im disappointed #not that i expected to be convinced but. Wow.#like meanwhile tab is like. the clues something is 'wrong' are OBVIOUS guys #thats not one #the only clues after this things are wrong lie in character behavior #which imo doesnt match up with the later dream/reality change indications #theyre honestly a lot more overt in their clues for things than we give them credit for. yes that also goes for johnlock #and the character behavior not matching up is meant to make us engage with WHY not like.... the fabric of reality #which u can argue about s4 but theres things in s4 more 'fabric of reality contradictory' than that #like Way More #so when you say HLV is fucky like s4 i just. do NOT agree #you need to go back to the drawing board aka the actual show content instead of your memory and see for yourself how blatant stuff is #johnlock is obvious s4s weirdness is obvious and hlvs stay in reality is imo fairly obvious #the idea that johnlock isnt obvious is the result of years of skepticism and denial and trepidation imo and the idea that hlv is fucky like #s4 is the result of not watching s4 enough IMO

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lifes-a-dick · 7 years

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Hey there! I haven't been on tumblr for a few days due to school, logged on and am hearing all about these dodgy scripts. What's going on?! Is there something different in them?! Something that wasn't shown in the episodes?! Something about TFP?!! Where are all they gay bits coming from???? Sorry, really lost :D

Hi! There’s no hard evidence that they’re fake, and I’m...personally convinced they’re real. They seem to me like VERY EARLY DRAFTS by Moftiss, leaked by someone, or intentionally leaked by TPTB to keep us occupied and to stop us finding other hobbies. The reason I think there are all those gay bits in them is because Steven, whoever, has literally just written in every single gay “joke” or funny+gay scenario he’s thought of over the past decades, then in later drafts has cut 99% of them out to keep it subtle. It’s like Steven’s fun script where he puts in every idea, then later only keeps a few of them. The TSoT one in particular looks like it was also written before the character of Sholto was reworked and made to mirror Sherlock more subtly, while Tom was turned into the literal mirror. I haven’t been on here much and haven’t read the scripts, just seen the posts go by. So this is just my opinion, but yeah I think they’re early drafts by Moftisson. It all feels kind of pilot-verse, ya know? Like when John had his shirt open a bit in the gay pilot, but in ASiP it’s buttoned right to the top, kind of symbolising how this new John is a bit more repressed. Fucky-TSoT-script John sleeps with his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and I just.....yeah. My main emotion is just like....really sad that all of this didn’t go to air.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

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Hey! I was wondering if you or anyone else know any good fics where John or Sherlock are ghosts and haunt one or the other or are just figments of either's imagination?

Hi Nonny!

I’ve a few, though sadly not many. Apologies that I added some on my MFL list that I haven’t read yet so that I can fatten up this list a bit :P.

Please feel free, all, to add your own!

GHOSTS / FIGMENTS

See also:

Dies After the Fall and Becomes a Ghost (My List)

Ghostlock (Community Recs)

Johnlock Ghosts (Alexx’s List)

Johnlock Ghosts – part 2 (Alexx’s List)

In My Life (and dreams, you take my breath away) by Nina36 (NR, 2,847 w. || Post-TRF/TEH, Angst, Pining Sherlock) – The first time he had dreamt about John he had been in Peru. He had been “dead” a little over a month, squatting in a tiny rented room, the heat and the stains on the walls making him slightly claustrophobic. It had been a nice dream: John and he eating take away Chinese in their kitchen, a song coming from Mrs. Hudson’s radio downstairs, something about friends and lovers and how no one compared with him, his mind supplied in his dream.

Electric Potential by pygmymeese (T, 5,011 w. || Supernatural) – It’s not clear why everyone in the world suddenly gets a ghost only they can interact with. All John Watson knows is that he’s stuck with a brilliant, if smug, ex-consulting detective, and that life is definitely looking up.

Times Two by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 5,595 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Victorian John, Modern John, Sherlock has a Good Imagination, PWP, Bottomlock, Spitroasting) – “But you’re not that John…”“Of course I am,” John’s lips and mustache brush against Sherlock’s mouth as he talks. “All us Johns are that John, now. That John is in every room in your Palace.” He leans in for another messy kiss, tongue swirling all around the inside of Sherlock’s mouth. “In fact,” he moves to suck on the sensitive skin underneath Sherlock’s ear. “I think I hear him coming right now.”

London’s Ghost by JustlikeWater (K+, 5,642 w. || Tragedy, H/C, Angst, Post-TRF AU, Sherlock POV) – “Today, it’s been weeks since Sherlock died. Other times, years. He doesn’t know for sure, though. Time passes differently for the dead”

Better Than Fiction by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 6,813 w. || Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Masturbation, BJ’s, First Time / Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Anal) – …he opens his eyes, but instead of seeing John he is staring at his bedroom ceiling, the pale plaster a startling contrast from the scene in his head. It had felt so real. He can only imagine what the feel of John’s lips would be like, his taste. But luckily for him, he thinks with a smirk, he’s always had a brilliant imagination.

To See You Again by Arisprite (T, 11,255 w. || Suspense, H/C, Supernatural) – When John wakes to a world where no one can see or hear him, it takes everything he has, including the upheaval of past mistakes to find out what happened in time to save his own life. No slash.

First Response by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 13,516 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Whump / Injury) – Five times John had to perform first aid on Sherlock and one time Sherlock had to perform it on John. (Chapter 6 has a figment!John)

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – “For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

MARKED FOR LATER

(these are fics I have in my MFL list for future reading and have not read them yet. Read at your own discretion).

A Spirited Companion by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (T, 3,124 w. || ASiP AU, Ghosts, Crack) – In which John is a ghost haunting the skull on Sherlock’s mantlepiece.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w. || Major Character Death, Ghosts, Halloween) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

Balance by Laur (E, 13,939 w. || First Time, Alternate Universes, ASiP AU, Soulmates, Ghost Sex, Supernatural Elements) – Each stuck in a universe where the other does not exist, a distortion of space allows Sherlock and John to meet each other through touch alone.

Most Ghosts Are Idiots by GoldenUsagi (T, 18,243 w. || Alternate First Meeting, Supernatural Elements, Friendship, Ghosts) – The one where Sherlock is already dead but hits it off with John anyway. John returns from Afghanistan later than he did in canon and rents a long vacant flat in Baker Street. But it has a few problems, he discovers, such as the ghost of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock throws books about, plays the violin at all hours, and leaves ominous messages on the bathroom mirror. John settles in regardless, determined not to let a haunted flat get the best of him. Though he does wish Sherlock would stop hiding his cane. Sherlock’s not an ordinary ghost, but then, most ghosts are idiots. Part 1 of the Most Ghosts Are Idiots verse series

I Think I’ve Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w. || Major Character Death, Ghosts) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

A Spirit In 221B by bbcatemysoul (T, 19,359 w. || Ghost Sherlock, Past Drug Use / Overdose, Humour, First Meetings, Paranormal, Fluff, Pre-Slash) – John rents a flat, only to find that it’s already occupied by the ghost of a previous tenant. Part 1 of the A Spirit In 221B series

All the Voices in Your Head by Atisenia (T, 19,725 w. || Case Fic, Mind Palace, Magic / Magical Artifacts) – During a case that may or may not involve an angry ghost, John finds himself in a place he never thought he’d have a chance to visit.

The Haunting of Sherlock Holmes by MapleleafCameo (E, 25,333 w. || Ghosts, First Kiss / Time, Supernatural Elements, Mysterious Disappearance, Ghost Sex, Hauntings) – Forced by his interfering git of a brother to the countryside to recuperate, Sherlock stumbles upon a 60 year old mystery. Captain John Watson, returning after WWII mysteriously disappeared one night. Bored, Sherlock investigates, but what if Watson didn’t disappear? What if he’s still there? Sort of a ghost story. Eventual Johnlock

The Afterlife of Doctor John H. Watson by flawedamythyst (G, 31,103 w. || Ghost!Watson, ACD Canon) – An account of Doctor Watson’s actions in the years following his death.

#steph replies #ghosts #figments #sherlock's mind palace #my fic recs #Anonymous

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ebaeschnbliah · 6 years

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THE DOGS IN SHERLOCK'S MIND PALACE

In The Hounds of Baskerville Sherlock mentions for the first time the existance of his mind palace and the audience can watch him enter that palace consciously and on purpose. He is looking for possible meanings of the terms ‘Liberty In Hound’. Browsing the word HOUND Sherlock brings to light two special breeds of dogs and 'Hound Dog’. That's a collective term for various hunting dogs and it is also the title of a very distinctive song adapted by Elvis Presley in the 50s.

"There has to be something ... something ... ah, something ... something buried deep." (Sherlock, THOB)

WOLFHOUND RIDGEBACK HOUND DOG

Someone made the desicion to use exactly these dog breeds and this song for Sherlock's mind palace. Which is very interesting because those choices are rather exceptional. Mostly because there are clearly other possible options for more popular hunting dogs or dogs with a closer link to the story itself .... like ...

The Setter ... THOB starts with an Irish Setter. Redbeard is of the same breed. Why not use one for the mind palace in THOB too? Would that have been to obvious?

The Foxhound ... is probably the best known British hunting dog. Considering that Jim Moriarty uses a tiepin shaped like a fox head later in the story (TRF Trial) .... now, that would have been a lovely connection.

The Greyhound ... is mentioned in Shakespeare's Henry V ... “I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start!" That passage is cited by Sherlock in TLD. Why not use the Greyhound for the mind palace instead of the Wolfhound? What would have been the difference?

The Spaniel ... Paddy, Sherlock's new puppy mentioned on Twitter, the one with the Irish name (Patrick), is an English Springer Spaniel. Additionally there exists also a Shakespeare reference to a spaniel in Two Gentleman of Verona, Act 3, Scene 1, Launce:

"He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who ’tis I love; and yet ’tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell myself; and yet ’tis a milkmaid; yet ’tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet ’tis a maid, for she is her master’s maid, and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel; which is much in a bare Christian."

The Basset ... Elvis Presely once performed the song 'Hound Dog' in the presence of a Basset. And Elvis is mentioned a second time in TLD ... as an example of someone who can be recognized solely by his first name, just like Napoleon or Sherlock himself. And of course, there is Shakespeare once again ... he refers to dogs that are supposedly the ancestors of the Basset in A Midsummer Nights Dream, Act IV, Scene 1, Theseus:

“My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flewed, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew, Crook-kneed, and dew-lapped like Thessalian bulls, Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tunable Was never hollaed to, nor cheered with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly. Judge when you hear.”

The Bloodhound ... In ACDs story 'The sign of four' Sherlock Holmes himself is compared to a bloodhound by Dr.Watson. And exactly this quote is mentioned in TSOT (X). Rachel Talalay gifted the crew of Sherlock BBC with a T-shirt displaying a Bloodhound and a shark, arranged very similar as the symbol of Yin and Yang. Toby the Bloodhound appears in TST. Furthermore the ancestor of the Bloodhound is the above mentioned Basset. A Bloodhound for the mind palace would have been quite a logical choice.

And what about Beagle, Pointer, Terrier, Retriever or Labrador? (Nice cameo appearance for Mark's dog Bunsen? :))) Really, there are a lot of possibilities and options ... yet the choice fell on Ridgeback, Wolfhound and 'Hound Dog'. Why?

Let's take a closer look at the 'dogs' of Sherlock's mind palace then.

Ridgeback isn't the full name of the dog breed shown on screen. There exist two other variations of Ridgebacks but both have pointy ears, which makes it easy to classify the first dog in Sherlock's mind palace. This is .....

The Rhodesian Ridgeback

The European forebears of that breed can be traced to the early pioneers of the Cape Colony of southern Africa, who crossed their dogs with the semi-domesticated, ridged hunting dogs of the Khoikhoi. These native dogs, though described as ugly, were noted for their ferocity when acting as guard dogs. The descendents of those dogs, formerly called Boer Hounds, became the forerunners to the modern Rhodesian Ridgeback.

These imposing dogs are known to be loyal, intelligent, sensitive and athletic. Originally, Rhodesian Ridgback's were used for hunting meat, to defended the cattle herds, staff, and homesteads ... even from lions. And because of their ability to keep a lion at bay while awaiting its master's arrival to make the kill, the Rhodesian Ridgback is also known as Van Rooyen's Lion Dog or the African Lion Hound or African Lion Dog. (X)

The African Lion Hound! What a surprise! Of all the available hunting dogs, someone decided to put exactly a Lion Hound into Sherlock's mind palace. The lion .... this big 'yellow' feline ... is closely connected to John Watson throughout the whole story. (X X) In the zodiac, the lion is a sun sign and the sun is also assigned to John ... Sherlock's 'conductor of light'. And similar to John, who is a soldier AND a doctor, the lioness-headed egypt goddess Sekhmet (TGG) is also a goddess of war AND healing, who bears the solar disc on her head.

A lot of 'coincidences'? Well, on to the next dog. :)

Again .... 'Wolfhound' isn't the full name of this dog. But there is only one dog calld Wolfhound, therefore the classification is easy. This is ...

The Irish Wolfhound

The breed is very old; there are suggestions it may have been brought to Ireland as early as 7000 BC. They originally developed from Celtic war hounds to one used for hunting and guarding. Irish Wolfhounds can be an imposing sight due to their formidable size. They are considered to be the largest dogs in the world and are also called Irish Hound, War Dog or Wolf Dog. The name Wolfhound originates from its purpose ... wolf hunting with dogs.

The character of a Wolfhound is most easily described by its historical motto, “gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked". As they are often friendly with strangers they are not very reliable as watchdogs. However, when protection is required this dog is never found wanting and displays its fearless nature. (X)

Regarding Sherlock BBC there are two strong connections to the Irish Wolfhound.

1 - THE WOLF - the winged wolf with the roses who is tattoed onto the brest of the addict in the drugs den in HLV. Tattooed onto a man who is most likely a mirror for Sherlock. The symbolism is quite fitting in my opinion.

'The way this wolf is presented doesn't convey the feeling of agression, evil or danger. Quite the contrary. It appears to be strong and calm, an expression of wisdom in ist eyes. The wolf represents our instinctive nature, basic animal instincts ... everything that is wild and free and independent. Even more so a wolf with wings. The winged wolf is able to fly .... becomes his own 'pilot' ... is able to break free and soar the skies. And the roses? Roses have been the ultimate sign for love since Aphrodite was born from the seafoam.' (That's just my own interpretation of that tattoo.)

The wolf is also strongly connectet to the moon ... just like Sherlock himself, the 'lunatic', ... from the rooftop in PILOT/ASIP to the graveyard at the end of TFP. Originally the term 'lunatic' was used for someone who went crazy with every phase of the moon ... like a werewolf. :)

2 - THE HOUND ... the second connection can be found on the brest of another man ... the H.O.U.N.D. symbol on Dr.Franklands garment. I never gave much attention to the ferociously snarling animal displayed there ... 'the hound' ... until I began researching the 'hounds' in Sherlock's mind palace:

If I'm not very much mistaken then the canine representing H.O.U.N.D. ,,,,, is indeed an Irish Wolfhound ... probably 'in action' and its ears flapping backwards. (Source of pic)

H.O.U.N.D. represents the drug which stimulates fear ... Sherlock's (Henry's) very own, very deepest und most basic fear. And when that monstrous creature awakens and turns up in Dewer's Hollow, with glowing red eyes ... a man emerges out of the poisoned fog .... and Sherlock stares into the face of ... Jim Moriarty.

African Lion Hound and Irish Wolfhound. Indeed! What an interesting choice for Sherlock's mind palace! The hounds humans bred to keep lion and wolf at bay.

Is this another version of ... John or James? But this time symbolized with dogs? Well, let's look at the third 'dog' then ... the HOUND ...

The meaning of 'hound dog'

DOGS: a dog of any of numerous hunting breeds including both scent hounds (such as the bloodhound and beagle) and sight hounds (such as the greyhound and wolfhound)

PERSONS: someone mean or despicable who pursues like a hound, affects by persistent harassing and annoys without ceasing. Or someone who avidly seeks to collect something (I think one could call Jim indeed rather annoying. :))

ELVIS: he adapted the song Hound Dog in the 50s. At one time he performed it alongside with a Basset. But neither Basset nor Bloodhound turn up in Sherlock's mind palace. Instead he hears the first chord of 'Hound Dog' and the face of Elvis Presley overlays his own. Therefore I guess it is the song and not a dog which is the important bit in that deduction.

And 'Hound Dog' - performed by Elvis - has indeed an interesting history.

On the first TV performance of 'Hound Dog' (The Milton Berle Show, June 5, 1956) Elvis started the song up-tempo but after the third verse he slowed it down for a steamy, hip-pumping final verse. The kids in the crowd went wild, but so did the press in the days that followed. Television critics across the country slamed the performance for its "vulgarity" and "animalism." And for the first time Elvis was attacked in the media as "sexual exhibitionist". With 'Hound Dog' and the way Elvis performed that song, his tabloid nickname was born: 'Elvis the pelvis' ... and his performance was declared as "unfit for family viewing." From now on Elvis was filmed consequently from the waist up. In short ... the way Elvis presented Hound Dog to the audience turned the song into a highly sexually charged piece of music.

Watch that performance here if you like. :)

But there is much more to tell about Hound Dog ....

.... because for all the silliness of it's text, there's a not-so-tame edge to the song's back story. Co-writer Jerry Lieber admitted decades later, the song's most famous line was just code for 'You ain't nothing but a m***** f*****'.

Elvis Presley made the song famous, but it wasn't actually written for him. In 1952 Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller gave the song to the big voiced R&B artist Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton. Whatever Hound Dog eventually became, it was written as a conventional blues number and in the hands of Thornton, it was a thunderous and lyrically racy song about some no good hound dog of a man about to be kicked to the curb.

You ain't nothing but a hound dog Been snoopin' round my door You can wag your tail But I ain't gonna feed you no more.

Thornton's recording soared to the top of the R&B charts, but it needed to be cleaned up before it would be ready for mainstream audiences of the 50s. Freddie Bell and the Bell Boys did exactly that in 1955. They replaced the racy with the ridiculous, turned a declaration of no more sex ("You can wag your tail but I ain't gonna feed you no more") into a reprimand for poor hunting skills ("Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine"). It was a crowd pleaser when they performed in Las Vegas in 1956. That's where Elvis heard it, liked it, and asked if he could record it. But before the recording Elvis' test-drove' the song on the Milton Berle Show. (X)

Isn't it interesting that Sherlock has stored precisely this song in his mind palace? Or more precisely .... that someone decided to put exactly this song in his MP .... In the MP of the man who says: "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful ... really useful."

Sooo .... Hound Dog apparently belongs to those things that are really, really useful for Sherlock? Looks like Hound Dog is even more important and useful than the solar system ... because Hound Dog didn't get 'deleted'. Interesting! :))))

Hound Dog is the last thing that turns up in Sherlock's MP session at Baskerville. He stops afterwards. All the previously viewed data rushes through his mind again in quick speed - only partially visible for the audience even if you go shot by shot (that's when I sumbled over the WATSON in Sherlock's mind palace :))) Finally only two words remain between Sherlock's hands ...

Hound ... dog ...

And that's the moment when Sherlock draws his final conclusion ... HOUND ..... PROJECT HOUND ....

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.

February, 2018

@gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @raggedyblue @possiblyimbiassed @sagestreet @sherlockshadow @tendergingergirl @devoursjohnlock @sarahthecoat @shylockgnomes

#the Dogs in sherlocks mind palace #ridgeback #wolfhound #hound dog

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