Taking a little longer with ff.net due to very important travel today. I’ll have to finish my summaries tomorrow I feel awful for not finishing this earlier, it’s my own fault. I don’t know if I’ll be writing a Halloween fic this year.

Elementary tonight! Looking forward to the good reliable Watson nurture and lack of sass taking that Martin Freeman got me addicted to and a lovely plaid wearing Holmes. How could I not agree with a plaid Holmes?

6 years ago

sturmdrang: “ “Sometimes I speak to men and women just as a little girl speaks to her doll. She knows, of course, that the doll does not understand her, but she creates for herself the joy of communication through a pleasant and conscious...

[I felt like I should include this with a wink. ^__^]

sturmdrang:


“Sometimes I speak to men and women just as a little girl speaks to her doll. She knows, of course, that the doll does not understand her, but she creates for herself the joy of communication through a pleasant and conscious self-deception.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer

Mycroft’s kind of like Bad Davey for me.  I absolutely adore Mycroft, I love to roll around in his cool, inhuman caring and his strange cool twisting love.  (Although Davey is hot and razor sharp where Mycroft is cold and slippery.  The same thing applies in reflection.)  But I don’t know if I’d ever want to actually meet him.  But I super adore him.

6 years ago

I just remembered I have a (two?) genealogy class(es?) to finish writing and submitting for approval and practicing.  Maybe chapter 8 won’t be finished tonight, but I’m fairly determined to keep up the Wednesday schedule.  The chapter may just be really late or unbetaed. 

Sigh.

6 years ago

I meant to have this done by tonight, but then angst exploded like an explodey thing.  I really wish I had the capability to tell if something is good or not instead of just mangling it and then rolling around in coconut macaroons.  There goes my disappearing waistline. 

Goal: finish the chapter tonight!

6 years ago

prettyarbitrary:

BBC Sherlock rec: Cost of Living by americanjedi

SCREAAAAAA OMG IT’S SO AMAZING.

Another fairy tale-style story.  I fangirled this straight to oblivion and back because AHHHH ALL THE THINKS TO GO WITH ALL THE FEELS.  

Sherlock died.  John steals peoples’ hearts to bring him back.

AND IT GETS BETTER FROM THERE.

It is long, multi-chaptered and finished.  It has a bittersweet ending, in the ‘ripe old age’ sense.

(via archivistsbelieve)

Source: prettyarbitrary

[This post is by tumblr user prettyarbitrary. It was reblogged 6 years ago. As of Dec 7, 2018 it had 2 notes. I am not taking credit for this post, I am crossposting it here so it isn’t lost.]

Sherlock Fic Rec day 137

missilemuse:

Cost of Living by americanjedi (~23000 words)

John Watson’s family has always been a little different. He never thought about it until Sherlock died. Now John is running through dreams collecting hearts.

My vote- I’m still having goosebumps from reading this story. Sherlock falls (the canon version here) and dies and John chooses to become the monster he never wanted to in order to bring him back to life. Because embracing the hell his life would become was preferable to a life without Sherlock. 

And yet it stands apart from every other monster story with the surprisingly breath-taking writing style. For example- I as a reader know that John is changing, undergoing a physical transformation with every dream-heart he steals and yet the details of that are largely are left to the reader’s imagination. The few hints that the writer has given, like- ‘ eyes that are all dark, like old blood’ or ‘his teeth on the elegant conglomeration of bones at Mycroft’s wrist’, will make sure that your imagination gives you a picture that is way more fluid and spine-chilling than any direct description would have been.

Then there was Mycroft bloody Holmes, who has been given his just due, which is something many stories struggle with. After all, the elder Holmes isn’t formidable simply because of his minions and suits and toys. At the heart of his character he is first and foremost Sherlock’s brave, over-protective and brilliant brother. God, the scene where he stops John from revealing himself (his monster instincts telling him to go after Sherlock) left me numb.

And last but not the least; the story nearly did me in when I reached this part-

“You are a fat idiot. John is my friend.”

John felt a surge of happy warmth.

“He has changed.”

“No,” Sherlock growled, but it was cold, not how he’d picture a growl at all. It was flat and cold as glass. “He’s the same. Exactly the same. Better. I know that look; really, could you be more obvious. Don’t ever, don’t try it. We’re connected now, if he dies, I die. If you touch him you’ll murder me Mycroft. Are you ready for fratricide?”

There was a long heavy silence. John’s fingers kneaded the carpet on the top step.

“Nothing mattered to John more than his humanity. He is deeply moral, intensely, annoyingly moral,” Sherlock’s voice was deep, intense and moved jaggedly with the rhythm of his voice, cut, cut, cutting like a saw. “And look at what he’s become. He did that for me.”