#Watson tell us far less than there actually has

[anneangel]

Then Sherlock says: "The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule".

Also Sherlock:

"Watson, you have never yet recognised my merits as a housekeeper" (says after preparing the dinner with his own hands).

"Look here, Watson, you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa and see if I can put you to sleep" (says Sherlock after picking up the violin and knocking Watson into unconsciousness sleeping, by playing impromptu for him).

"Except yourself I have none friend. And I do not encourage visitors." (says Sherlock, after Watson inquired whether any of Holmes' friends were knocking on the door given that Mrs Hudson was away, and it was too blustery a day for unscheduled client visits. The only other person Sherlock called a friend before Watson, that I can remember, was Victor Trevor. And they weren't close after Holmes solved the mystery involving his friend's father. As seen in that sentence, Watson is Sherlock Holmes only current friend).

"Watson, It's an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes my dear friend, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." (Say Sherlock, worried about sending Watson on a case alone).

"My dear friend, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come and examine the matter for myself" (Says Sherlock kindly, after sensing Watson's displeasure, anger and sadness at the thought that Holmes did not trust him enough).

"You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!" (says worried about an injury to Watson leg).

"By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive" (says in a threatening tone to the man who injured Watson).

"I feared as much. I really cannot congratulate you." (says Sherlock with a most dismal groan, when Watson tells will marry with Mary. Watson is so hurt by Holmes' tone that he asks why Holmes doesn't approve of the marriage! To which Holmes responds with: "love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment." But a good reader realizes that this is not an adequate answer to the Watson question! Holmes swerved! And remember, that's because Holmes tried to discourage Watson, claiming throughout the case that womens are not a reliable option) Lmao!!

"Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone" (says Sherlock needy lamenting Watson's absence by his side for one of his cases).

And, Sherlock Holmes only refers to Watson by his surnames, as was the decorum of the time, but he also uses the possessive pronoun "mine" a lot when addressing Watson. See: "my dear friend", "my dear doctor", "my boy", "my dear fellow", "my dear friend".

Sherlock also says in many cases that he has John Watson as a trusted man. He also drags Watson to concerts, outings and Turkish baths, enjoys Watson's praise, and even allows and encourages Watson to write about cases (although he says he doesn't like it, he never asked Watson to stop and even motivated him to do so), Holmes also seems to enjoy having Watson around him in Baker, cases or non-professional situations too.

John Watson can now, officially, change his name to "Holmes Exception". Lmao.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Creeping Man pt 1

Mr. Sherlock Holmes was always of opinion that I should publish the singular facts connected with Professor Presbury, if only to dispel once for all the ugly rumours which some twenty years ago agitated the university and were echoed in the learned societies of London.

Watson, are you telling me that all the times you published a story that would be exceedingly compromising for one of the people involved if they were associated with it, you had a story available that could actually help someone by being published? Watson. Watson? I just want to talk.

Now we have at last obtained permission to ventilate the facts...

This is such a turn of phrase. I want to use it. "Let's ventilate the facts, shall we?"

Come at once if convenient—if inconvenient come all the same. — S. H.

Infamous line is infamous. Why did you bother putting anything other than "Come at once". Why didn't you save time and energy.

"But apart from this I had uses. [...] I stimulated him."

I really shouldn't do these after 11 o'clock. I just keep finding innuendoes in everything.

A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones. And their passing moods may reflect the passing moods of others.” I shook my head. “Surely, Holmes, this is a little far-fetched,” said I.

I love that this is where Watson draws the line. All the other spurious pseudoscience Holmes spouts is fine, but the fact that the attitude of a family might affect their pet is preposterous. I mean, probably not to the extent Holmes is saying here, but there's definitely something in 'if someone has an unhappy and/or aggressive pet, they might very well be a dick', because that's what abuse does.

"Why does Professor Presbury's wolfhound, Roy, endeavour to bite him?”

Because he just tastes so very delicious. Next question.

I sank back in my chair in some disappointment. Was it for so trivial a question as this that I had been summoned from my work?

Watson, you've left your work of your own volition - no summoning necessary - for far less. Don't pretend to have a work ethic now. We've all read the stories.

OK, if the delicious theory doesn't pan out, the other option is that Presbury is an imposter. Or something is happening that upsets the dog and the owner is just the person closest to it and therefore bears the brunt of its displeasure. My Mum had a dog growing up that was nervous around large groups of people. Of course people would come up to the dog when she was walking it and because she was nearest to it, it would bite her.

“Have no fear, Mr. Bennett. Dr. Watson is the very soul of discretion..."

Oh yeah, he's super discreet. He just takes notes on all your private business and then publishes it in a magazine for the entirety of London, and the wider world, to read. Discretion is his middle name. Well, Hdiscretion. Doctor John Hdiscretion Watson. The H is silent.

Seriously though, you're lucky he thinks you're handsome.

"...this gentleman, Mr. Trevor Bennett, is professional assistant to the great scientist, lives under his roof, and is engaged to his only daughter."

Well that engagement is already making me suspicious. Something's going on there.

"He is, I gather, a man of very virile and positive, one might almost say combative, character."

I don't know how to read this description. Positive as in optimistic? But that doesn't seem to go with combative. Does combative mean he's aggressive? Is the scientist a dickhead?

And now there's another engagement with another professor's daughter. That's going to get confusing.

"The lady, Alice Morphy, was a very perfect girl both in mind and body..."

The past tense here is ominous. Also she's 'perfect'? in mind and body? I don't even know what that means. Someone did once tell me that they didn't have any bodily imperfections. I assumed they just had a very robust and positive self image.

Still, even Mary Poppins was 'practically perfect', not 'very perfect'.

"None the less, it did not meet with full approval in his own family.” “We thought it rather excessive,” said our visitor. “Exactly. Excessive and a little violent and unnatural.

My first thought is that if Alice marries professor 1 and has a son, then that's going to fuck with Edith's inheritance somewhat, and she and her fiance might take exception to that. My second thought is 'excessive' is a weird way to describe an engagement. My third thought is that no engagement should ever be described as 'violent and unnatural', even if it is only a little violent. Nope. I do not like that description. Wtf is even going on here?

"It chanced, however, that our client here, Mr. Bennett, received a letter from a fellow-student in Prague, who said that he was glad to have seen Professor Presbury there..."

Bitches in Prague need to learn how to shut up, clearly. Don't snitch on people. Traitor.

So Professor Presbury has been possessed by a demon from Prague. Good to know, good to know. We'll add that to the alternate Sherlock Fantasy universe.

"He told me that certain letters might come to him from London which would be marked by a cross under the stamp. These were to be set aside for his own eyes only. [...] they had the E. C. mark, and were in an illiterate handwriting."

Can handwriting be illiterate? Surely in order to have handwriting, you have to be literate. Should this be illegible?

"The professor brought back a little wooden box from his travels. [...] One day, in looking for a canula, I took up the box. To my surprise he was very angry, and reproved me in words which were quite savage for my curiosity."

Mystery box. ACD is JJ Abrams, confirmed

"After that we had to banish Roy to the stables."

#JusticeForRoy

I'm sure he had excellent reasons for what he did.

"Yesterday was such a day. It was not my father with whom I lived. His outward shell was there, but it was not really he.”

All signs point to demon.

[incomingalbatross]

My theory is that Watson is a victim of his own success; he’s so good at Being A Narrator that people have trouble perceiving him as a Character.

Much of his personality and presence in his stories is tied to his narration—but since the stories aren’t presented as about him, it’s easy to process that presence/personality as part of the background, just neutral elements of the medium in which the stories take place. But this means that if you don’t pay attention to his narrative voice, Watson’s voice and personality are far less obvious than, say, Holmes’s. He’s Just Some Guy, right? He’s just the everyman there to tell the audience what Holmes is doing.

I think this kind of assumption leads to a lot of the weird Watson choices in adaptations. Because if you’re working in a medium where he’s not the narrator—TV and movies, obviously, but also written works that made a different perspective choice—then a lot of his narrative presence is stripped out by default. And if you only processed that narrative presence as part of the backdrop, you may not even notice it’s gone…you just look at Watson without his voice and go “Hm. Yeah, he’s kind of a blank slate.” And then you make stuff up to fill it in: “Stuff” ranging from Nigel Bruce’s “comic relief” to Martin Freeman’s “addicted to violence” to fairly-widespread fic tropes like “handles Holmes’s social missteps for him.” (Yes that last one is also Martin Freeman, but it predates BBC Sherlock.) Fans and adaptors “fill in the blanks” and find things for him to do.

The only problem is he’s NOT a blank.

And this is one of the things that makes Watson SO interesting, because he has PLENTY of personality but people still overlook it BECAUSE it meshes so well with his role I guess? People keep making up traits for him and he HAS traits already. They’re just not looking in the right places! His character permeates the narrative so well that people overlook its presence!

We know things about Watson. Listen.

We know that he unironically and uncritically thinks Holmes is the greatest, while seeing him clearly enough to give us a picture of his flaws and faults.

We know that he’s imaginative and keenly sensitive to atmosphere, and also good at reading people’s emotions even if he can’t deduce why they’re feeling something. (He is, in fact, very good at observation and not good at deduction.)

We know he’s brave, and always up for something interesting.

We know he’s intelligent and well-read.

We know he’s idealistic, chivalrous, impetuous, and kind of a hothead; we also know, however, that his temper is generally short-lived and he’s quickly ashamed of it if he thinks he was in the wrong.

We know his ego works the same way (and is often tied to his temper); it’s easily wounded, when he remembers it exists, but he doesn’t care enough about his pride to feel embarrassments for very long.

We know that he, generally speaking, feels everything deeply, but is also comfortable with that, and is apparently incapable of resentment that lasts for more than five minutes. (To a degree we may, personally, find insane, but it is still consistent within the text.)

We know all these things! They’re in the stories! But because the stories are so consistently in his voice, we are consistently encouraged by his voice to overlook his actual character. So well that even when people want Watson to have personality, they apparently don’t realize it’s already there.

[shimmeringweeds]

Like everyone else, I've been having some thoughts on Link Click's latest episodes.

Namely, I'd like to discuss whether Link Click's story is deep enough into the "mystery" genre to actually play by the rules of a detective mystery.

Is Link Click's mystery even meant to be solvable? Should we all take the ending's advice and just "quit overthinking"? My thought is no! Below the cut are some classic rules that may guide us in solving this tale.

As we all know, the fun in reading a mystery comes from attempting to solve it. Therefore, there must be an agreement between the reader and the author that the mystery is in fact solvable by the reader. Guidelines were made in the late 1920s (Agatha Christie's time) regarding the rules of a mystery. They are the Ten Commandments of Ronald Knox and S.S Van Dine's Twenty Rules. I'll be directly quoting, and you can read them in full here: Link

Of course, as the mystery genre evolves, it is no longer bound to these rules. (Link Click ignores Knox's 2nd, as it's a supernatural mystery, for example) But the sentiment of guaranteeing reader solvability stands true.

Points that stand out to me include:

Knox's 1st: The criminal must be mentioned in the early part of the story, but must not be anyone whose thoughts the reader has been allowed to know.

I want to take this as meaning that our clue to the WHO and WHY of all this might exist as far back as "Emma." But does "early part of the story" maybe refer to S1 as a whole, or should we only count S2?

Knox's 6th: No accident must ever help the detective, nor must he ever have an accountable intuition which proves to be right.

I believe the story has followed this. No problem is solved by "just a hunch." There has always been evidence provided to the viewer.

Knox's 10th: Twins...and doubles generally, must not appear unless we have been duly prepared for them.

We were prepared for the switch, and many of you called it! Evidence that Link Click IS playing by some of these rules. (go team!)

Other Knox rules involves the "Detective" and the "Sidekick." Neither the detective nor the sidekick may conceal facts from the reader, nor may they be a culprit. Which completely (suspiciously) excludes Lu Guang from either role. Cheng Xiaoshi could fit the role of detective, and if there IS a single designated sidekick, (a Watson whose job it is to voice thoughts at the intelligence level of the reader) it is Qiao Ling, who is doing an excellent job of telling us what we want to hear and possibly leading us astray.

Van Dine's 1st: The reader must have equal opportunity with the detective for solving the mystery. All clues must be plainly stated and described.

Okay. This is not a novel, so I don't think clues need to be plainly stated, but they must be plainly shown (like the damn kettle.)

Van Dine's 2nd: No willful tricks or deceptions may be played on the reader other than those played legitimately by the criminal on the detective himself.

I think this is where many of us have ill sentiments toward the writers. I want to give benefit of the doubt about the eyes, seeing as the characters themselves seen to be unawares. I am solely focused on body language for future assumptions made. It still hurts. This is why it hurts.

Van Dine's 10th: The culprit must turn out to to be a person who has played a more or less prominent part in the story -- that is, a person with whom the reader is familiar and in whom he takes an interest. For a writer to fasten the crime, in the final chapter, on a stranger or person who has played a wholly unimportant part in the tale, is to confess to his inability to match wits with the reader.

This is a rule I find to be quite important and that worries me most. Whoever "hat man" is, I NEED him to be someone we've met. Better if we've known them since s1. Because, truly, as far as mysteries go? I think we are too deep in for a new, important character to come out of left field. But, um, well, the options are pretty limited in that case, aren't they?

Van Dine's 15th: The truth of the problem must at all times be apparent -- provided the reader is shrewd enough to see it. By this I mean that if the reader, after learning the explanation for the crime, should reread the book, he would see that the solution had, in a sense, been staring him in the face -- that all the clues really pointed to the culprit -- and that, if he had been as clever as the detective, he could have solved the mystery himself.

This rule is the heart of the matter. In following this rule, we can trust that (with 3 episodes left) all the clues we need are RIGHT. THERE. That we have a right to be blissfully frustrated because we can trust that the mystery is solvable. Is that the case? I honestly don't know, and I wish I did.

I also want to mention Van Dine's 18th and 19th which state that a crime must never turn out to be accident or suicide (as followed with Emma), and the motive for all crimes should be personal (Liu Min, Qian Jin, and Li TianChen check the box, even if we can only guess at the specific motives in relation to the victims.)

So, I think we all agree that Link Click embodies many genres at once. I could never, in good faith, recommend this story to someone as solely a mystery. But is Link Click enough of a mystery that we can trust it to abide by these rules? I'm not fully convinced we can even designate any character as "the detective", making some of these rules (for detective mysteries) moot.

What do you think? Is what we are being shown something we can trust and solve? Can we use these rules to help us find the solution? Or should we define this show as a drama/suspense first and a mystery second? I, personally, want to believe in the mystery.

But please, whatever you do, don't stop thinking about it. This is too much fun!

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: The Boscombe Valley Mystery

Part 3: The Fun Bits

can you tell by the volume of notes that this is one of my favorite cases?

Watson's value as a very patient rubber duck is thoroughly explored with this story.

I cannot fact check whether Holmes' statements about the contemporary use of "cooee" are accurate, because I am not actually sure if it's supposed to have been a word or the description of a whistle. (Pretty sure the Granada adaptation had McCarthy Sr. whistling it.)

The rest of the forensics Holmes describes are fairly plausible, though it hasn't snowed again yet somewhere that I can easily test whether the footprints of someone taking their weight off a bad foot or leg are always less distinct. I have a suspicion that the construction of everyday shoes in the 21st century (generally plastic / rubber soles with built in tread) versus 1890ish would make footprint identification very different in where we look for "definition." McCarthy wouldn't have a distinct tread pattern to match to a shoe (though we'll later see Holmes using this method on bicycle tires) so is Holmes only looking at the edges of the prints?

Anyway the appearance of Mr. Turner proves that the concept of a smash cut far predates film.

Diabetes - reminder that it absolutely was a slow death sentence before the creation of synthetic insulin, and that people have been well aware of it as a distinct disease since at minimum ancient Greece. Turner appears to have reached a stage where his breathing or circulation is pretty damn bad, based on how he's turning blue walking across the room. (Or both)

Once again, this story reminds you never to go to Austrailia, because you will either become a highwayman or get robbed by them.

The historical usage of the word slut appears to have not always referred (directly) to whether or not a woman has had sex or might have it, but to her class.

I cannot find a concrete origin point for the phrase "There but for the grace of god goes [name]" or "go I" (the version I have actually heard used in the wild before,) but the story appears to attribute it to Richard Baxter, an english clergyman of the early 1600's, best known for disagreeing with Calvinists and saying that people aren't born either pre-destined to go to hell or to heaven, and getting jailed for it. (Along with preaching to people in other ways the local calvinists didn't like, or having insufficiently kiss-ass opinions on their interpretation of the bible.)

Literally the only way Holmes would be more into this guy's work is if he were French. He's got the "fuck you people make their own choices" attitude that basically every other writer of fiction or nonfiction that Holmes ever quotes has.

You can tell that where Holmes' taste in literature and philosophy actually overlaps is on concepts and principles, not execution or genre.

Anyway Holmes is able to provide his forensic evidence and probably McCarthy Junior's alibi of having literally just returned to a defense lawyer, which is I think the first one of these stories where forensics, rather than a confession, has decided a case that has gone to court.

[twistedtummies2]

Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes - Number 22

Welcome to A Gathering of the Greatest Gumshoes! During this month-long event, I’ll be counting my Top 31 Favorite Fictional Detectives, from movies, television, literature, video games, and more!

SLEUTH-OF-THE-DAY’S QUOTE: “I am on a mission to protect the world’s idiots!”

Number 22 is…Ranpo Edogawa, from Bungo Stray Dogs.

“Bungo Stray Dogs” takes place in a world where many have gained superhuman abilities, so much so that it’s sort of become part of everyday life. (My Hero Academia is looking on with interest.) The plot focuses on the eternal conflict between two different organizations: the Armed Detective Agency, and the Port Mafia. The Agency is a group of superhuman private detectives, who use the combination of their sleuthing skills and their special powers to try and disrupt the Port Mafia’s activities…except when the Mafia and the Agency have to work together to down WORSE criminals, but that’s another story for another time. Interestingly, all of the major characters in the series take their names from famous authors, and have abilities, personalities, and demeanors inspired by those writers, their lives, and/or their greatest works.

Much like with Abby from NCIS, I’m sort of cheating by not actually including the main character of the show in this case. However, there’s a good reason for it: the main character of the series is a young man named Atsushi Nakajima, whose superhuman ability allows him to transform – either partially or entirely – into a massive white tiger. While he’s a really great protagonist, he’s actually not truly a great DETECTIVE: the way the show works essentially makes Atsushi to be the resident Watson of the team, so to speak. He’s actually someone who is LEARNING to be a good detective, from the various other characters on the team, who all have abilities and methods that help them solve problems in unique ways, and are all more experienced.

By far my favorite character in the show, and the most “classic” detective in the Agency, is Ranpo Edogawa. Now…I’m going to be honest and say that I know NOTHING about the author this character is named after. With most of the characters who are named after Japanese writers, I can’t tell you a THING about their inspirations, and I’m frankly not in the mood to do the necessary research to see how they reflect those writers and their works. Thankfully, in Ranpo’s case, I don’t really think I need to. Not only does he stand up perfectly fine on his own in general, but the way he functions seems to be more…universal, in terms of the kind of detective he is and the twists on the formula he presents.

Ranpo is an almost stereotypically Holmesian detective: he’s arrogant, at times childish, a bit mercurial, and absolutely brilliant. His power is referred to as “Super Deduction”: whenever Ranpo puts on a special pair of glasses, his perception and intelligence are supposedly given a big boost, allowing him to solve crimes with almost absurd quickness. In one episode, he literally solves a crime in less than a minute! Because of this incredibly “broken” ability, Ranpo has a big head about himself. He’s found openly and constantly declaring himself to be the best detective in the Agency, pontificating on his abilities, and generally annoying Atsushi as a result.

What’s interesting, however, is that none of the other Agency members get on Ranpo’s case most of the time, and they all genuinely agree that Ranpo is their best sleuth, overall. We eventually find out the surprising reason for this is that…Ranpo doesn’t actually HAVE any superpowers. At all. The glasses are just a placebo: he isn’t superhuman, he’s literally just that smart by his own terms. It’s later revealed that Ranpo is aware of this fact (though exactly how long he’s known is unclear), but he tries to play dumb about it because he doesn’t want to admit it openly to anyone. Edogawa, you see, has a lot of hidden insecurities beneath his Holmesian demeanor: before he met Fuzukawa, the leader of the Agency, he used to think of himself as “wrong,” as someone who was misplaced in the world, so to speak. As a result, he loves the sense of family and kinship he gets as a member of the Agency. He will do anything he feels necessary to protect his friends and fellow detectives, and doesn’t want any of them to look down on him for any reason.

If all of this isn’t cool enough, then here’s one more wrinkle: Ranpo has an enemy-turned-best-friend (and self-proclaimed rival) based on Edgar Allan Poe himself. Anyone who has Poe as their rival immediately gets a LOT of brownie points from me, by default. Honestly, just for that reason ALONE, I kind of feel bad for not placing Ranpo higher. I was sorely tempted to place him in the Top 20. However, since he isn’t the main character, nor even the main detective figure - just one member of a large ensemble of sleuths - I don’t think it’s ENTIRELY fair to put him up further in the ranks. It’s the same main reason I didn’t give the aforementioned Abby higher placement. Still, he’s a lot of fun and earns a great deal of respect from this goofball. The more I see of him, the more I like him.

Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 21!

CLUE: “If I’m not back in five minutes…just wait longer.”

[ogsherlockholmes]

21st October

I don’t really enjoy The Three Gables due to the racism in it (I made a post about it waaaayyy back when I first started this blog) and I think the main villain is actually ACD himself because of the racism. But, the fictional antagonist is Isadora Klein. 

Here is the description Sherlock gives us:

“It would be well that you [Watson] should come with me, for it is safer to have a witness when you are dealing with such a lady as Isadora Klein...She was, of course, the celebrated beauty. There was never a woman to touch her. She is pure Spanish, the real blood of the masterful Conquistadors, and her people have been leaders in Pernambuco for generations. She married the aged German sugar king, Klein, and presently found herself the richest as well as the most lovely widow upon earth. Then there was an interval of adventure when she pleased her own tastes. She had several lovers, and Douglas Maberley, one of the most striking men in London, was one of them... But she is the ‘belle dame sans merci’ of fiction. When her caprice is satisfied the matter is ended, and if the other party in the matter can’t take her word for it she knows how to bring it home to him...She is about to marry the young Duke of Lomond, who might almost be her son.” 

To summarise, Klein got herself a sugar king (I’m sure that means something to do with actual sugar and not Sherlock saying she had a sugar daddy, but the second option is funnier, so I’ll leave it to you to decide) then started dating men younger than her. On the whole, that isn’t villainous (despite what Victorian slut-shamers tell you) but she would blackmail these man when she got bored, which isn’t great. It’s like she was Charles Augustus Milverton, but she was involved with the blackmail in that she was risking her reputation if she exposed the scandal. 

Sherlock and Watson visit Klein, who basically immediately gives in as soon as Sherlock mentions the police. 

“What is this intrusion...?” she asked... “I [Sherlock] need not explain, madame. I have too much respect for your intelligence to do so– though I confess that intelligence has been surprisingly at fault of late.” “How so, sir?” “By supposing that your hired bullies could frighten me from my work...” “I have no idea what you are talking about. What have I to do with hired bullies?” Holmes turned away wearily. “Yes, I have underrated your intelligence. Well, good-afternoon!” “Stop! Where are you going?” “To Scotland Yard.” We had not got halfway to the door before she had overtaken us and was holding his arm. She had turned in a moment from steel to velvet. “Come and sit down, gentlemen. Let us talk this matter over. I feel that I may be frank with you, Mr. Holmes. You have the feelings of a gentleman. How quick a woman’s instinct is to find it out. I will treat you as a friend.” 

As an antagonist, Klein is very weak because she doesn’t even try to defend herself. I think this is most due to gender stereotyping, so that the most evil thing she is capable of doing as a woman in that era is have sex with younger men. So, she’s turned into an apologetic but sultry lady, rather than being actually criminal. The fact this quote is included as well ‘She smiled and nodded with a charming coquettish intimacy.’ only victimises her and diminishes her acts so that she is seen as a woman who made a mistake and not a blackmailer. 

I could go into a lot more detail on this subject, but I’m just going to say this: if you’ve ever seen two people, a man and a woman, commit a crime, such as murder, who receives the harsher punishment? 

When women receive less harsh sanctions for their crimes, it reinforces the stereotype that woman are weak and incapable of violence, when that is untrue.

Yes, I’m jumping quite far from the story, but I still think it’s important to look into how these stereotypes have come about, and ACD’s stories in particular can reinforce a lot of them. 

[tracinginwardinvestigation]

Note #42: Musing over an authoritative quote by Geralt the Classical Detective

Lately, I’ve been reading The Witcher novel series in preparation for my dive into its video game series, and so far The Last Wish has been really enjoyable! While reading “The Edge of the World”, I really love this quote by Geralt in response to Dandelion’s naivete about the nature of monsters:

“‘People’—Geralt turned his head—’like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.’”

As someone who loves detective fiction, this quote catches my interest in two ways. First, the theme of using fabricated monsters to hide human monstrosity is among the most common themes in detective fiction; my latest encounter with this theme was in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles. Second, Geralt in some ways reminds me of a classical detective a lot, in particular to my feeling that Geralt’s speech has a strong authoritative pull.

There are several factors that may have contributed to this authoritative tone, and in some aspects, these factors also bear resemblance to storytelling techniques found in detective tales. For one, there is an absence of the mundane life across many short stories in The Last Wish. In these stories, Geralt is constantly dealt with the monstrous side of the world, from fighting striga to killing targets whom he has some sympathies for (Renfri), sort of like detectives and their constant crime solving. Notably, when mundane scenes do occur, they often only serve as a catalysis for a later tragic event. Being a berated witcher only further alienates Geralt from the experience of other ordinary humans, but it does give him an opportunity to see human’s ugly side. Additionally, another detail that gives weight to Geralt’s authoritative pull in the quote is that Geralt does not fail to be a good reader of events and people he encounters on the journey, such as his curious attitude toward beastman who was feared by the villagers in “A Grain of Truth”. More importantly, this authoritative pull also gets built up by contrasting Geralt’s gritty attitude with his friend’s opposite attitude in “The Voice of Reason 5”. The chapter introduces Dandelion, who is a more whimsical, less wise companion to Geralt; the Dr. Watson to Geralt’s Holmes if we draw a parallel here. Thus, when Geralt begins to describe the tale of people hiding the ugly truth beneath a false narrative, and when Dandelion responds with naivety, and when the ugly side of the world has shown to the readers thus far also seems to support that sentiment, Geralt’s speech has a strong authoritative pull, one that screams he is telling the objective truth like a proper detective that Geralt alludes to.

But The Witcher is not a detective story, so I wonder if I should take the speech at face value? Specifically, the narrating of The Last Wish (by an unknown narrator) seems to be designed to tell a tale that builds up Geralt’s credibility, including his authoritative tone. In a way, Geralt’s speech refers to human’s mentality in the whole setting, but how much do I, the reader, actually know about the setting beyond his point of view? For one, I know little about the more mundane side of the world. I wonder why can’t the story contain a mundane chapter? Obvious answer is that the author does not plan to, but that absence does mean that I have no example for comparison; all I know, from Geralt’s perspective, is that The Witcher’s setting is one gritty place. But I am not Geralt, so what would be my own perspective of the world? How much trust should I place in Geralt’s viewpoint? Has he ever made a major mistake in regard to his reading of his world before? Why doesn’t the unknown narrator reveal to the reader about Geralt’s reading mistake? Is it because he has never made a major mistake before, or is it because telling the reader about his mistakes would dilute Geralt’s authoritative tone? Additionally, the speech also occurs with Dandelion, who represents himself as a life-loving, optimistic man; he is a contrast to Geralt’s serious demeanor. What would have happened if the speech occurs not with Dandelion, but someone else who poses an intellectual threat to Geralt? Would that make Geralt’s emphasis on his own narrative at the “correct one” less authoritative? Granted this stream of thought does sound strange in assuming hypothetical writing possibilities, which can be endless, instead of talking specifically about what the work offers. But if I am to cut down all of these speculations, my final concern remains this idea—can the weight of one man’s words reflect the entire Continent?

All that is just my musing after reading the first part of the “Edge of the World”. What will the later part of the story be like? Is it going to prove that Geralt’s speech is right, that some “monsters” are just human monstrosity in disguise? Or is the later part going to undermine Geralt’s authoritative speech, rendering his objective viewpoint lesser? Either way, I’m so excited!

On a final note, I wonder if it is possible to use my (understanding of) detective model to identify authoritative voices in other fiction like what I just did here…

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Luke Pearce - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You may be the Watson to his Sherlock, but he knows you’re not a follower by nature. You stand firmly on your own two feet. And though it may scare him at times, particularly when your safety is on the line, he can’t deny the pride he feels watching you go above and beyond in all you do, especially when it involves others. That selflessness paired with your determination is what he truly admires about you, and he hopes that you’ll never change, no matter what trials you face.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your smile. Because if you’re smiling, he knows everything’s going to be okay. He also knows when that smile is forced and when it’s faltering, prompting him to take action of his own to protect or hold you. It’s a tell-all for him, and that brings him comfort.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

In any way he can. He loves holding you. However, he likes it best when you’re chest-to-chest with his arms around you holding you close, no matter if it’s a long hug, lounging on the couch, or snuggling in bed. It’s a versatile position, allowing for you to either meet each other’s gaze while still having close physical contact or for hiding your expressions, such as you snuggling against his chest or him resting his chin on top of your head. It fits for every scenario.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ideal date? Well… a date… with you. He’s not picky. However, he definitely leans towards the more casual settings. Things where you two can be relaxed around each other, chatting and bantering all the way. Whether that’s strolling around town or a camping adventure or even relaxing at home with a familiar movie you’re not really watching in the background is up to you, but he’s down for any and all of them.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s… well, not quite an open book but rather a book you have to open. He frequently puts on a happy face, so sometimes, you have to break past that. Once you do, he’s not ashamed of being open and honest about his feelings. He wants first and foremost for everything to be okay and for you to be happy, but if you’re shutting that down and calling his bluff, he’ll surrender and be open to having heart-to-hearts so as to get on the same page as you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Yes… and no.

No, he doesn’t want a family because the lingering fear and guilt of leaving them behind would weigh heavily on his soul. But, if he was being honest with himself and the fear of his life being cut short wasn’t hanging over his head, his answer would be “how many kids are you willing to give him?” None? Okay, he gets you to himself. Five? Fantastic, he’d love a busy house. Adopt? He’s already got all the forms downloaded. Mix of both? Perfect. Family is what you make it, and he’s more than happy to make one with you, no matter what form that takes.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He loves things from you and accepts them all as a treasure. But he places the most value in things that are made. A solid ninety percent of the gifts he gives you are ones he made himself. He doesn’t see the value in giving gifts just to give them; they should either mean something or bring some sort of use to you. To him, gifts mean the most when time and effort was poured into it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He wants contact with you, and hand holding can be both perfectly innocent and sweetly intimate. And little squeezes here and there can communicate without words. He loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Instantly blames himself. He’s there to protect you, and if you get hurt, that means he failed miserably, so you’ll likely have to coax him out of his self-abusive state. Doesn’t matter if it’s anything from a papercut to a large accident, he’ll think it’s his fault, and he will be by your side as much as humanly possible during your recovery. And if it has something to do with NXX? I pity the person who caused you harm. He’d devote far too much time and resources to hunting them down as quickly as humanly possible and making their life a living hell.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re childhood friends. There’s plenty of teasing and inside jokes to go around. It might just be impossible for you to go a single day without one inside joke or playful reference to the past being pulled up.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Luke’s kisses come in one of two varieties: Reverent and Passionate. Reverent kisses cover most kisses, consisting of everything from good morning to good night to general pecks on the forehead, cheek, nose, you name it. The ability and privilege to kiss you means a lot to him, so no kiss is ever taken for granted. Passionate kisses, on the other hand, are less about the way he pulls you close or presses his lips against yours and more about him emotionally baring his soul in those moments. However tangled or feverish that kiss ends up being is only a byproduct of him wanting to express just how much he genuinely adores you.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

You will have to drag it out of this man. Not so much the confession but the confidence to admit he wants to be with you, in sickness and in health, for as much time as he has left. So really, it’s far more likely that you confess first and he’ll admit he feels the same while telling you all the reasons you can’t be in a relationship. Only once you get over that will he pour out all his secrets of how long he’s loved you and how deeply he loves you… And potentially propose right then and there.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He could elope with you and be perfectly happy. And honestly… he might be the happiest with that. If you wanted an actual wedding, he really would have no problem letting you have what you wanted, but the beauty of an elopement is that it can be done sooner rather than later, and he thinks he’s running on borrowed time. If he’s gonna marry you, he’d want to do that, like… yesterday. So if you’re up for an elopement, you basically have twenty-four hours to find a dress because he’s gonna take you down to the courthouse ASAP.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

That he’s going to die soon and leave you behind. The biggest stressor for him is letting you get more attached to him because then his death will be even harder on you. And then what if you end up getting very close to him and marrying him like he wanted, only for him to leave you a widow at a young age? Or worst of all, what if he leaves you a single mom? He already hates the thought of leaving you, but leaving his kids behind…

He tries really hard not to think too deeply on this but it feels like a waking nightmare he’s not going to wake from any time soon.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man cannot go forty-eight hours without making at least one Sherlock Holmes reference. And he occasionally has the knack of saying them… at the worst time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t think he’d be into cutesy, couple pet names all the time. Instead, I feel like he’d probably use “Watson” or any other childhood nickname he had for you on the regular basis. “Baby” and “Sweetheart” are probably in use, too, but he would tend to save those for quiet or tender moments. And “love” is reserved for the private, more intimate moments.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

In any way he can; you just have to be present. Quality time for Luke can be anything from you two sitting in the same room while doing different things to going on an adventure together to an intimate date night. As long as he’s with you, time is not wasted.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

Yes, yes, there’s grand gestures, but his love is shown in the little things. It’s the way he always is looking out for you, like offering you a moment to sit if you’d been walking a while or water if it’s hot. It’s in the way he squeezes your hand in the middle of a conversation. It’s the way he texts you reminding you not to over work yourself before ending it with an XO. Every day to him is precious, and he’s not going to bother with large, elaborate gestures of love if he can smother you in little, affectionate ones all day every day.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s pretty open with you, but the few secrets he has? Those he keeps locked away in the deepest part of himself. He will not let on that he has those secrets unless you get an inkling of their existence and go fishing to pull those secrets out of him. Keep at it; he won’t last long because he’s weak for you.

And of course, there’s state secrets he literally can’t tell you, but that’s a different matter all together.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Freaking years.

This boy has been in love with you forever and could have asked you out as early as high school, but he didn’t. Then you were apart for eight long years, and he could have started something up with you soon after you two reunited, but he didn’t.Instead, he plays the “beat myself up with regrets” game and wastes even moretime trying to logically distance himself from you before you eventually have to forcibly break him down. Only then does he cave. But the “beat himself up game”? Yeah, that never quits. Because eventually, he’ll beat himself up for wasting so much time to make a move.

You really have to help this boy out of those habits.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Will do anything to make you smile again. If you’re sad, he’ll try to pick you up with either a smile and some light banter or a hug and soothing words. If your mad, he’ll try to redirect or release your anger in any way he can. If you’re mad at him, que the kicked puppy look as he practically falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He will show off when he can, usually about his detective skills or ability to fix things, and he will look like a five-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on the playground while doing it. Be sure to praise him for those moments. You will be rewarded with a grinning blushy boy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

No. No. No.

…

Until you put your foot down and insist you’re gonna be by his side in a fight no matter what. He literally cannot win against you. And he hates it.

However, he is 110% your warrior and will be until he draws his dying breath. Nothing is going to change that. So if he can fight first and keep you from fighting in the first place, then he’ll do that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book. He’s known you waytoo long to not be able to. Even those eight years didn’t change you too much, and he was able to relearn everything that felt new to him fairly quickly.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

One of two ways. In scenario L, after the love confession, he would propose marriage in the heat of the moment. You’d probably already both be crying and a total wreck, but your hearts would already be out on the line, and he’d just take that moment to drop the bomb of “please be by my side for the rest of my life”.

OR if that didn’t happen, (or maybe it did BUT he didn’t consider it a proper proposal and wants a redo) the proposal would be nothing big or fancy. Rather, it’s in a quiet moment between the two of you, either hanging out at your place or his. He’s sure to get down on one knee, holding your hand reverently as he pours out his heart to you. You’ll be in tears and his eyes will probably be glassy too by the time you say yes. At which point, he’ll put the ring on your finger and then hug you tight. And probably not let you go until absolutely necessary.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

No, really. You’re basically his world, so as long as he’s able to see you and know you’re okay, he’s okay. And if you want to settle him with sweet words and gentle touches, go right ahead.

You will also put him to sleep if you massage his head with your nails, so be sure to pet the Golden Retriever Puppy. Let him have a moment where he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[turnscote]

An AU where Luke was telling the truth about why he left and actually kept in touch with you.

Pair: Luke/MC Rating: G Word count: 1310 Synopsis: As much as you wanted to believe that nothing was going to change, it was inevitable. There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.

Also on AO3.

It was perhaps late spring or early summer. You could remember how your nose was mildly itchy from the pollen as you found him sitting by the windowsill yet again. The breeze had felt warm, and the trees outside were rustling. It was supposed to be just like any other day until you heard the news that Luke will be moving away. In a week, nonetheless. It was surprising, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. Luke has always been a genius. You often teased him for being a nerd (affectionately, of course, to which he'd respond with a pout, and, oh, of course, you just had to pinch his cheek). Why wouldn't the National Central University, the country's top university, want him?

Promises were made. You're free to read Luke's Sherlock Holmes collection that he left at his parents' house. You'd call. You'd keep each other updated, about your lives, about your reading progress on his books, about all the food the capital has to offer. His moving away isn't going to change anything. You'd take good care of yourselves, even without having the other around, even without Luke chasing off any geese who would harass you, even without you apologizing to the grumpy neighborhood grandpa for the ruckus Luke had made. You two were going to be just fine. Right?

As much as you wanted to believe that nothing was going to change, it was inevitable. There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact. You know that. You sighed and closed Luke's copy of The Boscombe Valley Mystery. Ever since the age of five, Luke's presence has always been a constant in your life. Now you're left anxiously waiting for him to call.

Luke had told you earlier this morning that he'd be rather busy today, what with all the classes he got, and he's not even done with settling in. Despite his tight schedule, he still managed to take the time to text you several times throughout the day. Luke sent a picture of the egg sandwich he had for lunch. Apparently, he was in a rush in between classes, and the meal from the convenience store was all he could manage. He then complained about how it wasn't enough for him, how he regretted not getting more.

He promised he'd call once he's done with one of his assignments. You weren't expecting it to take this long. It was past 10 already. You had finished your homework hours ago, and that's why you're left in the state you are now. Laying in bed, The Boscombe Valley Mystery still sitting on your chest because you couldn't be bothered to get up and put it away. Is college that much harder? Luke must have been exhausted by now. Not wanting to keep him up just so that you could talk to him, you decided to text him to wish him luck on his work and that you two can just call some other time when he's less busy. You considered adding a cute sticker of a bunny with pom-poms but decided against it. You're a high school student now. Using stickers seems kind of childish and silly, doesn't it?

You finally got up, put the book away, and went to the bathroom to wash up before bed. By the time you came back, you notice your phone screen lighting up, informing you of a missed call from Luke. You hurriedly dialled him back. Within two rings, you finally heard his voice.

"Hey." There wasn't much energy to his voice. "Did I keep my Watson waiting?"

As odd as it may be, despite you never going anywhere and staying in Stellis, hearing Luke's voice made you feel like you're finally home once again.

"You're busy, Luke. I understand. You could have gone to bed right away, you know?" It really wasn't a big deal. Sure, you missed him, but you'd rather have Luke be well-rested.

"Oh, uh, well," you could hear a nervous chuckle from the other end of the line. "I'm not done with work yet, actually. It's much harder than I had anticipated." A pause. "I just wanted to make sure I could hear how your day was before you go to bed," his voice softened.

You let out a long sigh. Luke putting yourself over his own wellbeing. That's one thing that hasn't changed, huh? You couldn't admit that you thought that he was being very sweet and that you're honestly happy about it. You can't enable this behavior of his, can you? He seriously needs to put himself first.

"Okay, we'll make this quick then. You really need to take better care of yourself, Luke. Make sure you get enough rest."

"Alright, alright, I get it."

This is how it's always been. You two worrying and nagging each other, to the point that it may seem overbearing.

"So, the braised pork granny made for lunch, we still got plenty of leftovers left, so we also had that for dinner." You could hear Luke groaning in jealousy. Granny's braised pork was great. "I also read a bit of The Boscombe Valley Mystery."

"Oh! How are you liking it so far?" Luke clearly perked up at that.

"I haven't gotten very far yet, but I'm curious to see how they're going to prove James' innocence. All the evidence seems to be pointing at him right now."

A hearty laugh. Oh, how you love the sound of it. "You'll soon see, my dear Watson."

It's Luke's voice. It's clear it's Luke's voice. You'd recognize his voice anywhere. It's just, it doesn't sound the same over phone calls. Obviously, there's the slight noise, it's not a bother, but you do miss how clear his voice sounds in person. There's also the fact that his voice doesn't sound as deep, but that's fine, this is fine, it can't be helped. You're just glad you could still hear his voice to begin with. You're glad he'd make time for you instead of making you feel like you're left behind.

"How about you, Luke?" you asked. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, it's just some stuff on engineering chemistry. I also had to review some stuff for my engineering physics class tomorrow."

Science has never been your best subject, so when Luke explained further all the things he had to do, you were honestly feeling a bit lost. You loved hearing him talk about it so giddily, though. It reminds you of all the times when you'd have a nightmare disrupt your sleep and Luke would come over to your room and tell you the lamest science facts to distract you and get you back to sleep.

Luke seems to have noticed your quieter yeahs and mms to his stories. "Hey, you should sleep." You couldn't see it, but you got his gentle smile perfectly imprinted in your mind. That's probably how he looks right now.

"Sure, but," normally you'd be too embarrassed to ask for something like this. But you're too sleepy and you can't think straight so you went ahead with it, "Is it okay if we stay on the phone like this?"

It took a while for Luke to respond, but he finally said, "What do you mean?" as if in disbelief of what you're asking of him. That's fair. It is a ridiculous request, after all. It almost makes you want to take back what you just said. Almost. It must be all the K-drama you've been watching.

"You can get back to work, and I can go sleep, we just leave the call on."

"Alright," Luke said. "We can do that."

As you settled in bed, you could hear him tenderly say, "Good night, my dearest Watson."

This is nice too, you thought. Things aren't the same, but you two are going to be just fine.

[chaoticallygray]

Hi! How are you? Can I request a oneshot about Leopold from the Irregulars? Like that they get into some sort of an argument and the reader storms out, Leo chases after them and accidentally confesses? It's fine if you don't want to do it.

Requested by: Anon!

Hi!! I'm good I hope you're good too! Wasnt sure what gender or pronouns you wanted so I tried to stay general. Might have gone a bit overboard but go big or go home right?? I hope you like it anon even though I feel like I strayed a bit

It had been another day of running with the gang and solving another case given to them by Watson. It was also another day where Y/N felt utterly useless. It wasn't an entirely new feeling for them but with the added cases it felt like everyone had a part to play. Spike made sure everyone got along and always lighened up the room, Jesse had that whole psychic thing going on with her, Billy was the muscle, Bea was the leader and always had a plan, Leo was the brains, and Y/N was just... there. Y/N tried to help but was always told to stand aside. It never really seemed apparent that Y/N didn't do anything necessary to help on cases (not for a lack of trying) until earlier that day.

---

Leo, Y/N, and surprisingly Billy were tasked to find information on any and every poison that could be found in London as two women and a man had suddenly died in their homes and were all found with a note in their hands saying that the clock is ticking.

They'd been trying to solve this case for two days now and getting antsy. They were stuck.

"I'm going to go over there and see what I can find. I'm thinking they could have been injected something or someone poisoned their food." Leo said already grabbing three different books from the shelves and mumbling to himself.

Billy and Y/N looked at each other and shrugged. They were used to Leo being this odd when it came to books. It was his thing.

Heading in a different direction than Billy, Y/N started brainstorming letting their hand glide through some books until a book about botany caught her eye. Whenever Y/N could have more than an hour alone they liked to read. It's not really a secret but they have never mentioned it to the others especially now that Leo joined. He was so much smarter than Y/N and that was precisely what made him catch Y/N's attention when they were first introduced on the case with the missing babies.

Shaking their head and smiling fondly at the memory Y/N sighed. There was no way Leo would ever look twice at them. They weren't going to even entertain the thought. There was a case to solve.

Opening the book, Y/N realized that they had read this one before which was why it probably caught their eye in the first place. Closing it and going to place it back where it belonged Y/N remembered having read about a plant capable of causing respiratory problems and stopping the heart of anyone that touched it for merey a second. Quickly trying to find the page on the plant Y/N ran back to where Leo was looking like a madman with fifteen different books open around him.

"Leo!" Y/N exclaimed and then dropped their voice to a whisper remembering where they were with a blush.

"I think I've found it" Y/N whispered to Leo who wasnt paying attention.

"Yeah Y/N go ask Billy to read it for you. This is important" Leo said waving around a hand in dismissal not really listening to Y/N.

"What? No Leo I think I found what they were poisoned with." Y/N said confused by what he said about finding Billy.

"Y/N don't be ridiculous. Can you stop? I really need to find this" Leo said not even sparing Y/N a glance just continued flipping through different books.

"But Leo..." Y/N started protesting but was caught off by Leo slamming a book closed.

"Y/N stop it! I need silence to think and you going about whatever it is you think you found isn't helping. You never actually help us solve the cases so can you do me a favour and go look at a book with pictures or something while I find the poison and we can all get a decent nights sleep?" Leo told Y/N without even thinking about how he just basically called the one person who is always there for him and the one person he has been heavily crushing on since they met, useless.

Immediately standing up to apologize he didn't get the chance as Y/N whose lip was already trembling slammed the book they had in their hands onto Leo's chest where he already knew he was going to bruise but at this point he thought he deserved worse for hurting Y/N like that.

Running out of the room Y/N nearly collided with a confused Billy.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Billy asked but was promptly ignored.

Billy looked back to Leo who had a kicked puppy look to him shocked at what he had said.

Shaking his head at Leo, Billy went outside to try to find one of his best friends with no such luck.

Y/N was already long gone.

---

Falling asleep miserable yet with no tears was something Y/N was not a stranger to. It had been happening too frequently now and at this point they're exhausted.

Y/N didn't go back to the cellar that day. Whenever they needed space to breathe and just br they always go to a surprisingly very empy not so much of an alleyway near the docks. There is a small nook int he corner where Y/N can sleep peacefully without unwanted company. For safety reasons Y/N only told Spike about this place in case the gang needed Y/N for something. So far, they hadn't.

It was precisely here that Leo found Y/N the next day. He had immediately wanted to run off after them but Billy told him to give them space. When Y/N didn't go back to the cellar that night well after the case was solved, Leo got concerned and started overthinking. He couldn't sleep and all he could think about was how he messed up. He was scared that Y/N didn't want to be friends anymore. Yes, he dreams about being more but he rather be friends than have nothing.

The next day when the rest woke up Leo was still sitting near the cellar doors waiting for Y/N to come back. He looked as though someone punched both his eyes.

"Mate why don't you go to sleep? Y/N will be back" Spike said trying to reassure him.

"I can't. I need to apologize. I didn't mean it I was just stressed." Leo said looking up at Spike, who had a hand on his shoulder, with wet and red eyes.

"Look mate, I'm only telling you this because I've seen you two. You're great together and the best thing is you don't realize you both like each other" Spike said sighing and then told Leo where Y/N was probably at.

Quickly thanking Spike, Leo wasted no time and ran as fast as he could out of the cellar doors on his way to make things right.

Arriving at the docks, Leo went to the left and tried to find the little alleyway Spike told him. Walking as quick as he could with his cane he finally spotted Y/N sitting on top of a wall just looking out at the water.

Stopping at the wall Leo took a second to admire Y/N. The sun was still low in the skyly but it was making Y/N's eyes shine and he had never seen then more serene than in that moment. He wished he could see that everyday and he hated to think that he was the reason why Y/N was upset enough that they didn't feel like they should have gone back to the cellar the day before.

"Are you here to call me useless again or are you just going to stare?" Y/N said without looking over at Leo who was momentarily startled out of his staring spell.

"I'm actually here to apologize." Leo answered.

"Save your breath Leo. You can go back and tell Bea or whoever sent you that I'm fine and I'll go back to the cellar later" Y/N said jumping off from the wall they were sat in and starting to walk away. Leo quickly trying to catch up with his limp.

"No one sent me I-" Leo started but was quickly cut off when Y/N sharply turned around to face him.

"Not surprising since I'm useless." Y/N said to Leo scoffing and turning around once again to continue on their journey with no destination.

"No Y/N listen please" Leo said but Y/N didn't care they just kept walking.

"Y/N" Leo kept trying with no luck.

Getting tired but not willing to stop, Leo tried to speed up but his leg thought that this was the best time to lock up and seize movement and he fell.

Hearing Leo's quick grunt of pain and a slight thud, Y/N turned around and seeing him groaning on the floor trying to get up quickly ran back to help him.

"No, no stop I deserve it." Leo said swatting away Y/N's hands.

Not listening to him Y/N got him in a sitting position. Rolling Leo's pant leg Y/N assessed the situation and didn't think he needed anything more than rest and something cold against his leg. Also less restricting clothes.

"Why are you helping me?" Leo croaked after a minute of looking at Y/N with tears in his eyes from the pain.

Y/N just looked at him and got a small tin from the bag they're always carrying.

Opening the tin and pushing some type of paste on their fingers, Y/N concentrated on applying a light and even coat on Leo's leg hoping the mixture would help soothe the pain.

"You're not useless." Leo said and Y/N hesitated for a second then went back to applying the salve not saying anything.

"I didn't mean what I said. I should have never said that to you. The case was taking so long and my leg was starting to bother me but Billy was there and I didn't want to say anything. I always slow us down. I was angry at myself. At my body and I took it out on the last person I ever wanted to hurt" Leo said closing his eyes willing himself not to cry.

Hearing no response just feeling light careful touches on his leg he continued spilling his thoughts.

"You're so brave and compassionate. You're so so smart and so kind. You always make sure that everyone has eaten and you always somehow know when one of us is having a bad day and you make it your mission to make us smile at least once. You're always polite and make sure to help anyone you see that needs help. You're so selfless Y/N. Always helping everyone and I wish I could help you and treat you like a queen but I'm always hurt and you deserve the world. You deserve someone who isn't afraid to climb a tree with you or even do something as simple as walking all over London. I can't be that and it pains me because I'm so in love with you and I'm so incredibly sorry for hurting you. All you do is help and I called you useless" Leo rambled hoping that Y/N will forgive him not even noticing that he slipped up and told them that he was in love with them.

Sensing that Y/N stopped their movements on his leg Leo opened his eyes thinking that Y/N left him. What he didn't expect was for Y/N to look at him with tears in their eyes.

"You, you're in love with me?" Y/N whispered scared that if they talked louder the moment will have turned out to be a dream.

Widening his eyes Leo finally realized what he said.

"No! I mean yes! I'm in love with you Y/N. I didn't mean to say that! I know you don't feel the same and I know you want someone stronger and not broken like I am but I can't help my feelings. It's ok though I'll leave. I'll leave you alone-" Leo was cut off from his nervous babble when a pair of lips pressed firmly to his.

Hesitantly pulling back from him, Y/N smiled softly at him not caring that they're still on the ground near the docks but needing to say this now.

"I'm in love with you too Leopold" Y/N said and with that Leo didn't care anymore about his leg that strangely enough had stopped hurting when Y/N started applying the salve but he saves that thought for later and focuses on how the person he thought he could never have loves him of all people.

"Are you sure?" Leo said placing both of his hands on Y/N cheeks wiping away a tear that seemed to have escaped from their eyes.

"Yeah I am. I love you" Y/N said looking into his eyes.

"I love you so much" Leo whispered before pulling in Y/N for another kiss.

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 5

Hello, my lovelies. Another post on Saturday?? You spoil us, Jane! I know it's crazy, but I love you all and being in touch again means a lot to me. Hmm. Well, that was more heartfelt than I'd planned. Suffice it to say, I'm in a bit of a mood. I got some bad news yesterday and will know more on Tuesday. I don't want it to keep me from posting because you all DO mean a lot to me and your support does to. We'll just have to see how things go.

---

Sunday morning is awash with breakfast and icing and wrapping Olive’s gift for Mycroft. Sherlock struggles to keep his mind off John at first, but he is quickly caught up in their preparations and Olive’s constant chatter. Soon they are in one of his brother’s sleek black cars and on their way to a luxury flat all too near their own. Of course, another country wouldn’t be far enough away for Sherlock. There were only two reasons Mycroft had become more tolerable over the last eight years and one of them was sitting next to Sherlock asking questions and telling him her plans for the party. When Olive came into Sherlock’s life Mycroft finally believed, once and for all, that his little brother would not use again and would take care of himself. For all the modifications he made for raising a child, his life was significantly more simple without Mycroft’s interference.

Sherlock stares straight ahead, not really seeing the back of their driver’s head or the rear view mirror. He hears Olive as she continues talking at top speed, but is not listening at all. He would never ignore her, of course, and he will pay for it if she realizes he is distracted. Sherlock will risk it though to review the particular thoughts running through his mind.

John is back in London. He does not live far from Sherlock and has a daughter in Olive’s class. Mycroft knows it. He must know it and yet, he said nothing to Sherlock. Not even so much as a hint or, more likely, horning in to advise Sherlock to stay away from the doctor. He said nothing, did nothing. Mycroft could have stopped Sherlock from ever meeting Gracie’s father if he had wanted to. Why hadn’t he?

Sherlock rolls this around in his mind as they turn a few more corners, traversing the busy streets of London. Mycroft has always meddled in Sherlock’s life, always tried to control things. In spite of the improvements to the situation, Sherlock knows his brother would never pass up the chance to keep him away from John. We wouldn’t want you to be reminded of the past and return to old habits, would we, Sherlock? That’s what the pompous ass would say. Sherlock glares ahead unseeing, his grey eyes narrowing and the delicate skin beneath them contracting. Mycroft has done nothing that Sherlock would have expected in this scenario and the most likely conclusion is also the most ludicrous. Can it be that Mycroft wants Sherlock and John to meet again? If he is not actively trying to keep them apart, has he somehow orchestrated John’s move back and their subsequent meeting? The world is seldom so careless.

“Dad?” Olive’s irritated tone breaks Sherlock’s concentration and he looks to her instantly, trying to keep a guilty expression from his face.

“Hm?” Sherlock hums a reply, picking apart what words he had heard her speaking.

“Are you even listening?” Olive asks, her eyes narrow slits of suspicion. Knowing there is no escape, Sherlock opens his mouth to confess, but Olive barrels on before he can say a word. She obviously cares less about what he was doing before than she does about having his attention now. “I’m going to tell them all about Gracie and our pirate adventures in the park and that she likes Nancy Drew and what’s going on with Samantha Jones and…”

“You have so much to tell that they won’t get a word in,” Sherlock interrupts her with a light tease in his tone. “You may have to wait for another time. It is his birthday, after all.”

“Pfft,” Olive blows out a dismissive breath that makes her lips vibrate. “Dad, you know how much Uncle Mycroft likes my updates.”

Sherlock inhales slowly as he quickly considers the truth of her statement. He tilts his head and nods, his lips pressed together and brows arched.

“We’re here!” Olive squeals suddenly as the car comes to a stop in front of a very stylish 19th century building. The little girl throws open the door and leaps out of the backseat, making a b-line for the front door. She has barely taken her fingertip off the bell before the door opens and she dashes inside to find her uncles.

Sherlock follows at a more leisurely pace, making his way to the kitchen. He knows the two men will be there preparing lunch for four together. John’s face invades his thoughts again as he walks. He has more grey than Sherlock remembers, but the blonde is still more prominent. John would disagree, no doubt, but it suits him. He looks very dignified, which is a good look for a doctor. John looks good in general. He is still fit, his eyes still bright and clear, and still the eye-catching blue Sherlock saw in his dreams for years after John left. There are a few additional lines around them, but they are still gorgeous and so is John. God, how Sherlock has missed him and in so many ways.

Finally reaching the kitchen, Sherlock pushes the swinging door open and is greeted by a sight that warms his heart every time, in spite of Mycroft being one of its major players. As per usual, Olive ran headlong into the room and jumped into her uncle’s arms. The result is a penny-clad Mycroft holding her off the ground in a tight embrace as she hugs him to within an inch of his life. Sherlock has to admit he could never imagine his brother as an uncle and certainly not a good one, but Mycroft has adored Olive and his role in her life from the day she was born. The man certainly has changed. Of course, having a lighthearted partner has helped considerably.

“There he is,” Greg Lestrade says loudly with a smile on his face. Olive twists around to look at her father, eyes sparkling silver.

“I told you he wasn’t far behind,” she beams as Greg approaches the detective, reaching for the cake holder in his hands. She turns to Mycroft and tilts her chin up proudly. “I put the icing on your cake myself, Uncle Mycroft. I even tubed happy birthday on it.”

“Piped, sweetie,” Sherlock corrects her as Greg takes the covered container with a hello and a ta. The detective trails behind and places the two bags he is holding on the table against the wall. Greg looks up after depositing the cake on the same table.

“You did?” Mycroft asks with as sincere a smile as he will ever have. “Thank you, my sweet. I can’t wait to see it.”

“Daddy says we have to wait until after lunch,” Olive states in a serious tone laced with excited energy.

“He’s right, you know,” Mycroft says, lightly touching her nose.

“What?” Sherlock cocks his head, wearing an expression of mock surprise. “Would you mind repeating that? Greg, where’s your mobile? I want this documented.”

“You are entertaining as ever, brother mine,” Mycroft says wryly as he returns Olive’s feet to the ground. “Come on, Olive, you can help me check the ham.”

“Can I wear the oven mitts?” she bubbles on the way to the oven.

“Of course,” Mycroft says, motioning for her to hold up her hands like a doctor who has just scrubbed in for surgery. He puts one large mitt over her right hand and another on the left, then tugs on his own and adopts a similar posture. “Ready?”

“Ready and waiting,” Olive replies. Mycroft picks up a meat thermometer and hands it to her. They nod once at one another and bend down to open the oven door and peer inside.

Greg and Sherlock can neither one stifle their chuckles as they watch. After eight years, Sherlock can still scarcely believe it. He turns back to Greg in another minute, observes the man’s curious expression and cocks a brow.

“What’s all this then?” Greg motions toward the bags. 

“Olive insisted we bring gifts and candles,” Sherlock tells him and Greg begins to laugh. “I told her fire alarms may sound if we actually light 59 candles, so we agreed the orange ones represent ten candles each.”

“Fantastic,” Greg laughs, patting Sherlock’s shoulder with one hand. Meanwhile, Mycroft gives his baby brother a perturbed look that vanishes as soon as Olive asks if she can fill everyone’s glasses with ice and water in the last few minutes before the ham is finished. She goes to the freezer as Mycroft fills a pitcher and they both push through the swinging door to the dining room. Greg drops the smile as soon as they are out the door and fixes Sherlock with a serious gaze that genuinely startles the detective, but cocking his brow again is the only hint of the emotion.

“So you saw him,” Greg says without preamble. It is not a question and confirms what Sherlock has suspected since the moment he laid eyes on John Watson in Regents.

“Why?” Sherlock snarls. He might have saved his ire for Mycroft alone, but Greg going in on the deception stings and more than a little. The CDI glances toward the door and squares his shoulders with Sherlock’s, looking into the detective’s death glare without wavering.

“I didn’t know until last night,” Greg’s tone is urgent and in much the same style it is on a crime scene. “Myc told me when he got home. How are you?”

“Why?” Sherlock repeats with no less anger.

“He thought it best you not know,” Greg tells him with a shrug that is somewhere between apologetic and my life partner is an idiot, “but knew he couldn’t keep the secret once Gracie turned up in Olive’s class.”

Sherlock is silent. His anger does not lessen, but Greg no longer shares its focus. That honor belongs to his brother alone once more. Greg eyes his glowering face and shifts his weight back for a better view of Sherlock’s body language. What greets him are muscles stiff with fury and a clenched jaw. Sherlock has told Mycroft many times what will happen if he continues his attempts to control Sherlock’s life. Obviously, Sherlock has not yet made his position clear.

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” Greg cringes, watching the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw work.

“Yes,” Sherlock glares, not mincing words. Greg squares his broad shoulders and raises his hands, palms out.

“Okay, but let him explain why,” he begins.

“You told me why,” Sherlock snaps, growing tired of the conversation. He blows out a petulant breath and straightens his spine to stand at his full height. For all his posturing, Greg does not even seem to notice. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything about his reasoning,” Greg presses. Sherlock fixes him with narrowed eyes and a look that screams ‘You must be kidding’.

“His reasoning,” Sherlock repeats, annoyed and incredulous. “Oh, for god sake.”

“You’ll want to know what it is,” Greg says lightly, arching his brows. “It makes sense. Well, by his way of thinking.”

Sherlock’s whole face drops into an expression of indignance that says it all.

“I’m not saying I agree with him, or that he isn’t being an ass AGAIN,” Greg admits with a shrug of his shoulder, “but it makes sense. To his…”

“Way of thinking, yes,” Sherlock finishes with a growl. He opens his mouth to launch into a tirade on his brother’s incessant interference when Olive suddenly bursts through the swinging door, followed by the man himself. If Mycroft notices the tension in the air, or Sherlock’s thunderous expression, he does not show it as he and Olive walk straight to the oven.

“It is definitely ready to come out now,” Mycroft is saying while putting oven mitts on Olive again, one by one. “We’ll take it out and transfer it to the platter. Then I’ll slice it while you hold it steady with this.”

He holds up a long, two-pronged meat fork and Olive’s eyes go wide. She nods enthusiastically, chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ and hops from one foot to the other.

Sherlock and Greg break away, taking side dishes and rolls into the dining room. Within minutes, the four of them are seated at the table and passing around food. Sherlock pushes down his anger and engages in comfortable conversation with the others, although Olive does most of the talking. She answers her uncles’ inquiries about school and the most recent experiment she and Sherlock have done. She tells them about the seeds they planted in a window box they had just installed in the kitchen as part of a science unit, but she mostly talks about Gracie and all of the things they do together.

“Wow,” Greg leans back in his chair, slightly pushing away his plate. “She sounds like quite a best friend. Almost like the perfect one for you.”

Greg turns his head slowly and stops on Sherlock with a pointed expression. The detective meets his gaze and gives a nearly imperceptible twitch of his head in response. Mycroft does not so much as glance at Sherlock, just as he has done throughout the meal. It isn’t that he is avoiding Sherlock’s eyes and with it, his ire, he merely knows his little brother and his “moods” well enough to wait for the appropriate time and place. In the past, Sherlock would have been more than happy to press the issue no matter who was in the room, if for no other reason than to humiliate Mycroft, but not now. Not with an excited child in the seat next to him and especially not on his brother’s birthday when said child is practically falling out of her chair from fidgeting for cake, songs, crackers and presents. 

“She certainly does,” Mycroft says in his usual tone. It sounds condescending when he speaks to Sherlock, but is fond and pleasant when addressing Olive. “You two have so much in common. Have you had your playdate yet?”

His voice rises at the question, but in the way he uses only when he already knows the answer and is actually prodding Sherlock. The detective blinks slowly, not rising to the bait as Mycroft finally glances his way with a knowing expression. Damn him.

“Not yet, but we’re working on it,” Olive replies with a significant nod and raised brows. She tries to wink at him, but only succeeds in contorting her face and deliberately blinking both eyes very slowly. Greg just stifles a laugh, but cannot hide the grin on his face. He clears his throat to cover and begins to rise while reaching for his plate. 

“Why don’t we get the cake, Olive?” he suggests. “You can put all the candles on.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Olive chants, jumping out of her seat. She grabs her own empty plate and turns to Sherlock. “Can I take yours, Dad?”

“Yes. Thank you, sweetie,” he hands it to her and she follows Greg through the swinging door. Sherlock inhales deeply, gathering himself so his annoyance does not spill forth now that he and Mycroft are alone. He lets his gaze slide over to his brother, who is already watching him expectantly with narrowed eyes. Sherlock looks at him coolly and says nothing. They can hear Olive and Greg giggling in the kitchen as they ready the cake and dessert plates. Mycroft keeps his eyes trained on Sherlock, waiting for an insult or snide question. The detective’s face remains neutral as he continues to sit in silence. He will not give Mycroft the easy out of beginning this conversation with a fight, not to mention he has no intention of starting something Olive could walk in on.

Mycroft finally sighs loudly and shifts in his seat to lean forward, resting his forearms on the table. Sherlock cocks a brow and narrows his eyes, lips pressing together in a thin line.

“Sherlock,” the elder Holmes’ tone is back to condescension. 

“No,” Sherlock’s hand shoots up with the command. Mycroft’s brows arch in response. He looks as though he might try to continue speaking, so Sherlock pins him with a glare that demands Mycroft keep his mouth shut. Nevertheless, he parts his pursed lips and draws a breath.

The swinging door flies open as Olive and Greg burst in.

“Happy Birthday, Uncle Mycroft!” they cry together with big grins on their faces. Greg carries the cake, complete with burning candles and Olive holds a tray with a stack of four shallow bowls, spoons and a container of vanilla ice cream. Before either Holmes can react, the merry duo is singing Happy Birthday and placing their wares in front of Mycroft. Sherlock does not join in, but they don’t seem to notice.

“Blow out the candles,” Olive exclaims as soon as the song is over. “Wait, wait! Make a wish.”

Mycroft blows out the breath he sucked in noisily for show and makes quick work of the tiny flames. Olive cheers and claps while Greg leans down and drops a quick kiss to Mycroft’s lips.

“Happy Birthday, love,” he murmurs, his gaze soft.

“I want to pull off the candles,” Olive declares, climbing onto her chair and sitting on her knees for more height. She yanks one out of the icing immediately and places it on the tray at Greg’s direction. Once she is finished and licking icing off her fingers, Greg cuts a piece for each of them. Mycroft gets the first one, but he waits until everyone has been served before his first bite.

“Oh, Olive, this is delicious,” Mycroft smiles at her grin and bright eyes. She shoves her own fork in her mouth and chews. “You and Sherlock really have outdone yourselves.”

Sherlock bristles at the sound of his name on Mycroft’s lips. He ignores his brother’s attempts to draw him in, unsure he will be able to keep the anger from his tone, and eats in silence.

“Thanks,” Olive beams, taking another bite. “I know how much you love chocolate cake and Daddy suggested the icing.”

“Did he?” Mycroft’s gaze turns to Sherlock. The elder watches carefully as his brother makes every effort to maintain a mask of indifference. “How nice.”

“Uh-huh,” Olive inhales the last of her cake and drops her fork on the table. Still sitting on her knees, she hops a little as she watches her uncle daintily slip his from between his lips. “I want to give you my present! Did you get any presents yet?”

Olive shifts her dancing eyes to Greg, who promptly grins like an idiot and glances at Mycroft. Sherlock shifts in his seat uncomfortably as he analyses the expression. Greg ducks his chin down and gives a slight shake of his head, along with a quiet laugh. He appears almost bashful. Oh, god.

Sherlock can barely hold in a disgruntled huff. He is not a prude by any stretch of the mind. In spite of what Mycroft may think, sex does not alarm him. However, that still does not mean he wants to know anything about what happens in his brother’s bedroom.

“As a matter of fact, Greg gave me his present this morning,” Mycroft smiles sweetly at his partner. It is an expression Sherlock never thought he would see on his brother’s face, but seemed instantly natural once he and Greg began dating. Mycroft is still sharp as ever, especially on the job, but Greg smoothed out a lot of the edges in his personal life. Greg had even helped mend fences for the Holmes brothers, a daunting task if ever there was one. He is the other reason Mycroft has become more tolerable.

Sherlock brings his glass to his lips for a drink as he considers his friend, a man he took for an ordinary idiot when they first met, and lets out an amused breath through his nose at how far they have all come since then.

“You mean like sex?” Olive’s voice asks and Sherlock spits his water onto his own cake, fortunately missing anything of consequence. Everyone stares and Olive jumps off her seat with a start. Sherlock grabs a napkin and dabs at all of the droplets he can see on the table around him, mumbling apologies until Greg finally catches his hand to still it.

“It’s okay,” Greg tells him. “No worries.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen at the softness on his friend’s face and immediately dart to Mycroft’s left hand. No ring. That doesn’t make sense. He glances at the pockets in Mycroft’s waistcoat and sees the slight bulge of a small box. There it is. He leans back in his chair and extricates his hand from Greg’s, setting aside the napkin as he moves. 

“I see congratulations are in order,” Sherlock remarks. Greg’s eyes brighten and he claps the detective’s arm.

“I knew we couldn’t hide it for long,” the CDI laughs. “Thanks, mate.”

“Brother,” Mycroft nods somewhat smugly, no doubt because it remained a secret for as long as it did.

“What?” Olive asks as her gaze shifts from one man to another. “What’s going on?”

She puts her hands on her hips and stamps a foot when no one answers, her brows knitting on her wrinkled forehead. Taking pity, Mycroft turns toward her and fishes the box out of his pocket. He holds it out to the girl, who is frozen where she stands, face lit up like it is Christmas. Her palms fly to rest on either side of her face, pushing together until her lips are bunched up comically in between them.

“Actually, he gave me this,” Mycroft says in a tone of quiet anticipation. Olive reaches for the box inquisitively and takes it only when her uncle nods his approval. She pops open the lid as soon as it is in her little hands and gasps loudly at the simple platinum band. 

“It’s perfect!” she squeals, jumping up and down. She thrusts it back at Mycroft, still hopping wildly. “Put it on. Put it on!”

All three men are laughing at this point, Olive’s glee filling the room with light and energy. Mycroft takes the ring from the box and slides it delicately onto his long finger where it rests comfortably like it was always meant to be there. Olive yelps happily and leaps into his arms.

“I’m so happy for you!” she cries and turns to Greg, not loosening her grasp on her uncle. “And you too, Uncle Greg!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Greg answers, reaching for Mycroft’s shoulder and touching it warmly.

“I want to be in the wedding!” Olive nearly shouts. “Can I be in the wedding?”

“Of course you can,” Mycroft assures her with an uncharacteristic grin, “and you can even pick out the dress.”

“With ruffles?” Olive gasps, hands covering her mouth.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yahoo!” Olive is off his lap in a second and dancing around the room. Greg and Sherlock laugh as they watch her twirl and spring from one spot to another. 

“We were actually hoping someone else would be in it too,” Mycroft says guardedly, eyeing his baby brother. Sherlock’s smile falls instantly and he freezes in place with his gaze on the elder. “Would you stand up for me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock does not even twitch with an answer. Even Mycroft, with all his secrets and intelligence, seldom surprises the detective, but at this moment, he is speechless. Nevermind he had not expected his brother to ever marry. Hell, he honestly never thought Mycroft would fall in love. Sentiment is a weakness and all that, but the last few years with Greg had certainly changed Mycroft’s opinion on that. This though. This implied his feelings toward Sherlock had changed as well. He had always claimed his meddling was out of concern and Sherlock had seen it for the lie it was, but now. The possibility seemed impossible, even with the evidence right before his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy, you have to!” Olive runs for her father and dives into his lap. Sherlock’s heavy limbs catch her clumsily as she wraps her arms around his neck. “You can wear one of those tax-idoes and stand next to Uncle Myc and I’ll stand next to you. We’ll be beautiful.”

“Yes,” Sherlock replies slowly, not wanting to spoil her mood with his true answer, “it will be lovely.”

“Yay!” comes her cheer, only to be silenced with another gasp. “My present. You have to open my present!”

Olive gestures toward Mycroft as she runs out of the room, dodging furniture and throwing the door open. She pops back into view as it swings back into the dining room, a twelve by fourteen inch box in her hands that is wrapped in paper covered with brightly colored balloons.

“I wrapped it myself,” she says proudly, straightening up tall. “Daddy only gave me the pieces of tape this year.”

“My, my. You are growing up, aren’t you?” Mycroft says in admiration and takes the box when she thrusts it at him. 

“Go on,” she flashes a toothy grin, minus the one she lost the week before. “Open it.”

Mycroft smiles mischievously, throwing a glance at Greg and Sherlock, and tearing at the paper. He used to open packages carefully, sliding his fingers along the tape, but Olive made it clear the practice was unacceptable when she was four. 

With the paper gone, Mycroft opens the box and pulls a tall cylinder with sticks glued around its outer surface. The sticks are clearly ordinary twigs one might find on the ground, but each one has been relieved of its bark and stained a lovely medium brown. They are cut to the size of the cylinder, which is actually more of a glass, and glued on vertically so no part of the glass shows through. Small knots are visible on some of them, but the quality of work cannot be denied. Surprise showing on his face, Mycroft looks over the table to Sherlock and then to his niece. 

“It’s a pencil holder,” Olive tells him with pride in her voice. “You always have so many laying around on your desk.”

“Yes, I do,” Mycroft replies airily. “It’s beautiful, Olive. It really is. You made this yourself?”

“Dad helped,” she answers. “We collected the sticks in the park and he showed me how to make them pretty.”

“Well, you have done excellent work, my dear,” Mycroft pulls her close to kiss her forehead. “I love it.”

“There’s more,” Olive hops a little at his side.

He puts the pencil holder on the table and fishes into the box again, pulling out a drawing of three men and a little girl standing around a table with a cake sitting in its center. The cake is brown for chocolate icing and absolutely covered in candles. A few even stick out from its sides and every one of their tops is colored with orange marker. Mycroft can easily tell which man is which by the clothing and can’t help the small smile forming on his lips. His character wears a waistcoat with matching pants, Greg’s has a dark green shirt with short sleeves and blue pants, and Sherlock simply wears his signature long, dark coat. That is what tickles Mycroft the most. He turns to look at the little girl again.

“It’s us celebrating your birthday,” Olives says and points out who everyone is. She points to the cake too. “There’s 59 candles on it. That’s what I wanted it to look like, but Dad said we had to pretend some of the candles were really ten candles instead. I still think this is better.”

“Be that as it may, I think I agree with your father,” Mycroft remarks pleasantly, in spite of her frown. He hands the paper over to Greg who laughs heartily.

“It’s perfect,” Greg agrees. “You have your dad’s coat and hair down to a science.”

“Thanks,” Olive rushes over to hug him.

“And what’s this?” Mycroft asks, pulling what looks like a brown tail cut out of paper. Olive scurries back to his side and starts pulling out more. Mycroft has a blue scarf in one hand that is twisted into a long coil like a blindfold. With an uncertain look on his face, he directs his attention to Olive, who holds up a paper with a brown horse drawn on it in crayon. 

“It’s a game. Pin the tail on the donkey,” Olive explains happily. “People play it at parties. We can all play. I made lots of tails.”

Everyone is still for a moment. Mycroft’s eyes find Sherlock’s and broadcast the need for a conversation before Olive gets too carried away. Sherlock’s face hardens, but he makes no other movement.

Greg, ever the peacekeeper, is the first to move when he rises from his chair and takes the box from Mycroft.

“Let’s put all the bits in here,” Greg begins collecting tails. “You and I can set it up in the lounge, so these two can talk for a minute.”

“Aw, but I wanted all of us to play,” Olive whinges.

“Olivia,” Sherlock begins in a stern voice, but Greg cuts him off.

“We will. Uncle Myc and your dad just need a minute,” Greg takes her hand and starts leading her to the door opposite the swinging kitchen one. He leans over slightly to speak in a fake whisper. “We’ll play once or twice and have the advantage.”

Olive inhales quietly through her mouth and looks back at the Holmeses with shifty eyes. She presses her lips together as if trying to make sure she doesn’t spill the beans and give away their conspiracy.

“We’ll be right in there,” she points to the door and what lies beyond, “just setting up, but NOT playing.”

Sherlock and Mycroft both raise a skeptical brow in unison. Olive giggles, not trying to hide her intentions in the slightest, and looks back at Greg. He flashes a knowing smile at the brothers and steers Olive to the door again.

“Come on. They won’t know what hit them,” he and Olive chuckle together as they pass through the door and out of the room.

Not looking at his brother, Sherlock’s face hardens immediately and he lifts his chin defiantly. The fury fueled by Mycroft’s attempts to hide John from him boils to the surface quickly. The detective parts his lips as he chooses from the words running through his mind. How he has tired of Mycroft’s need to control his life, to “protect” him. He has a tolerance for it no longer.

“You have questions,” Mycroft states in his damned, know-it-all voice. Sherlock inhales sharply and bites off the urge to curse.

“One,” he replies in an even, but strained tone. “Why?”

There is a moment of silence. Enough that Sherlock turns his head to look at his brother. The elder’s eyes are dull and his face bland. 

“I thought that rather obvious, don’t you?” is Mycroft’s only response. 

“You have let me be for years,” Sherlock ignores his words. Growing more and more angry at Mycroft’s carelessness in shattering the peace between them. Of course, he is just as frustrated with himself. Sherlock had been a fool and should have known Mycroft would jump at the chance when the right situation presented itself. Old habits are hard to break and meddling in Sherlock’s life is as central to Mycroft as his nervous system.

“John Watson has stumbled into your path again,” Mycroft’s voice is stern and commanding. Sherlock recognizes it from when he has issued orders to underlings and it makes the detective’s blood heat within his veins. “Even more dangerous than the last time.”

“Dangerous?” Sherlock barks furiously. “I put him in danger. It was not reciprocal.”

“We both know that’s not quite true,” Mycroft says quietly, purposefully. Sherlock nearly flinches at those words. The words of his mortal enemy that had so opened his eyes.

“You bastard,” Sherlock’s voice is hoarse with emotion. He wants to rise, punch Mycroft right in his smug mouth and stalk out of the room, but cannot make his body listen to the signals from his brain. A wave of frustration washing over him, Sherlock tries to gather himself. He pushes out everything other than his anger with Mycroft, but his efforts are derailed completely by his brother’s next words.

“You love him,” Mycroft’s face is stony. “You did then and you jumped off a building. You still do now. You always have.”

Sherlock stares blankly. His lips part with no words, his mind racing.

“But Olive needs you now,” Mycroft continues, his tone growing more forceful. “You do not have the liberty of giving up everything for him again, should the need arise. I thought it best he not be a part of your life.”

“And then Gracie met Olive,” Sherlock says in barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” Mycroft murmurs. “It was a possibility I had not considered. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock straightens, rising from his chair. He walks to the window and looks out, seeing nothing but a pair of blue eyes. “John wants nothing to do with me. He won’t even let Gracie come for a playdate.”

“I can’t believe that won’t change soon enough, Sherlock,” Mycroft tells him doubtfully. Sherlock rounds on him and clenches his fists at his sides.

“What would you have me do?” the detective demands. “I will never shut him out. I did that once and it cost me everything.”

Mycroft looks into his brother’s determined grey eyes and sighs.

“Be careful, brother mine,” he says in a sage tone. “Guard your heart. Let me help when you need it. Please.”

Sherlock notices Mycroft said when and not if, but chooses not to comment. That conversation is not one he wants to have now. Instead, Sherlock merely fixes him with sharp eyes and nods once.

---

I had a lot of fun with this chapter! The image of Mycroft interacting with Olive in exactly this way fills me with such happiness. Olive holding her hands up for the mitts like a scrubbed-up surgeon and Mycroft playing right along tickles me. And then there’s Greg's line "You're going to kill him, aren't you?" as he cringes at Sherlock - I can see the actors playing this scene to perfection! Lol. I hope it gave you as much pleasure as it did me.

Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Alienist. By Caleb Carr. New York: Random House, 1994.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction, mystery, suspense

Part of a Series? Yes, The Kreizler Series #1

Summary:   The year is 1896. The city is New York. Newspaper reporter John Schuyler Moore is summoned by his friend Dr. Laszlo Kreizler—a psychologist, or “alienist”—to view the horribly mutilated body of an adolescent boy abandoned on the unfinished Williamsburg Bridge. From there the two embark on a revolutionary effort in criminology: creating a psychological profile of the perpetrator based on the details of his crimes. Their dangerous quest takes them into the tortured past and twisted mind of a murderer who will kill again before their hunt is over.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: ableism, homophobia/transphobia, racism (including slurs), sexism, rape, abuse, child abuse and sexual assault, child prostitution, animal cruelty, blood, gore, violence

Overview: This book has been on my TBR list for a while, so I figured I’d finally get around to reading it. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was actually surprised by how much I enjoyed the reading experience. Carr writes in a way that pretty closely imitates 19th century detective fiction, and while such a style might not be for everyone, I thought it went a long way in creating atmosphere. My criticisms have mostly to do with pace and the creative decisions that probably didn’t have to be made (such as depictions of child sexual assault, use of slurs, etc), but even with those faults, I have to give Carr’s craft and research a lot of credit, so this book gets 4 stars from me.

Writing: As I mentioned above, this book mimics detective fiction of the 19th century. If you’ve read any of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, you might get the idea: first person, characters displaying almost whimsical behavior, stuffed with contextual details that may or may not be relevant. At first, I thought the reading experience was going to be a slog, but once I realized what Carr was trying to do, I readjusted my expectations and found the prose to be quite engaging. If you like 19th century literature, you might appreciate what Carr does, but if you find older lit to be a challenge, this book might not be the thriller you’re hoping for.

That being said, I do think there were some areas where Carr could have picked up the pace or even cut some of the contextual details. It’s obvious that Carr did a lot of research before writing this book, and it’s understandable that he would want to show off some of that research, but there were times where I felt like it was a little much.

I also think there are a lot of things in this book that will offend modern sensibilities. I recall at least one use of the N-word (which is spoken by a racist minor character) as well as remarks that make it clear that characters think same-sex intimacy is “deviant” or abhorrent. I can understand why Carr put them in his book; if we’re trying to evoke an atmosphere and make the story feel like it’s set in the 19th century, it’s not realistic to expect everyone to be accepting of gay sex or treat POC with respect. But also, I think it’s on Carr to bear the responsibility of creating plot points and characters that have those attitudes in the first place. The character who uses the N-word could have easily not done so, and characters could have been more clear that their revulsion was at child prostitution rather than same-sex relationships.

Still, I was able to follow the plot with no problem and the sentences flowed in a way that made the reading experience feel quick (no 10-line sentences, thank god). So while there may be some things I would have liked to see adjusted to fit my own tastes, I think Carr did a wonderful job of making me feel like I was reading an older work.

Plot: The plot of this book follows a group of investigators as they try to use psychology to catch a serial killer. As far as being an “original” or unique thriller, this book doesn’t necessarily deliver a plot we haven’t seen before; but what made it so interesting (at least to me) was that it was less interested in the thrill of catching the killer and more interested in thinking through the “whys.” Why did the killer do X? Why did he do Y and Z when he could have done A or B? In this sense, the suspense doesn’t come from the action or the “chase,” but from the building of ideas and a foggy picture becoming more and more clear.

If I can fault Carr for anything, it’s that I think he crafted his mystery around some subjects that are... touchy (for lack of a better word). Most of the murder victims are children - specifically child prostitutes - and a lot of the killer’s motivations are rooted in some combination of racism and exposure to abuse. If you’re looking for a book which handles these issues with sensitivity, I think you’ll be disappointed. But I have to give Carr some credit for not overly sensationalizing these things; for example, while he did include characters who were racist towards Native Americans, he also included characters who were sympathetic and who insisted on not judging tribes for their defensive violence. Not everything is perfect, and there were some moments that made me uncomfortable, but I felt like Carr painted a complex picture of 19th century America, so I was able to keep going.

Characters: The plot of this book is told from the perspective of John Schuyler Moore - a newspaper reporter who teams up with his friend, eminent psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, to catch a serial killer. As a protagonist, Moore isn’t overly compelling - he’s more like a neutral, blank slate that the reader can project themselves onto. He serves much of the same function as Watson in the Sherlock Holmes stories: to be a witness to other characters’ brilliance while occasionally making some helpful insights. Still, I didn’t outright hate Moore - he was kind and loyal, and I admired how he went out of his way to try to help people.

Kreizler, the psychologist (or “alienist” as they were called in those days), is somewhat of a Sherlockian character in that he’s eccentric, confident, and had abilities that stun the people around him. For the most part, Kreizler was fun to follow. I think the only times I got truly frustrated with him were when he would allude to some knowledge and then leave Moore in the dark - like “aha! This thing is obvious!” “What thing?” “No time to explain! I’ll tell you at dinner!” Those moments were a little irritating.

Sarah, the most prominent female character, was more complex than I expected her to be. She has clear career aspirations and doesn’t let anyone hold her back, and I liked that she was presented as this kick-ass woman who still felt human. She struggles when faced with the horrors of the murder, but she doesn’t let the horror put her off of her task. She’s confident and never seems to have a moment of self-doubt (which is refreshing). She notices interpersonal things without being boxed in as “the woman who notices emotions.” Granted, Sarah does serve some token function - she’s brought on in order to provide a “female perspective,” which was a little frustrating, but she held her own so well that my annoyance melted away.

Marcus and Lucius, the two brothers who work for the police department, are also quite charming characters. I loved how they brought technical expertise to the group by being knowledgeable about anatomy, fingerprints, photography, and the like, and I especially enjoyed the way they bickered with one another. Their presence immediately made scenes feel lighter, and they brought something of a family aspect to the whole band.

Supporting characters were well-crafted in that no two felt quite the same. Teddy Roosevelt (yes, that one) was cheerful and warm while still demanding absolute cooperation and loyalty from his men. Cyrus and Stevie - two of Kreizler’s employees - were charming, though I wish Cyrus had gotten to do more than just kind of silently stand by awaiting orders. Mary - Kreizler’s maid - was a lovely character, and I appreciated the positive disability representation we got with her, though I do not like how her character arc ended and how it related to the main plot. The crime bosses were intimidating without feeling too much like stock characters, the thugs did their job. I don’t think there was a character that was poorly written, just characters who served purposes that may or may not have been needed.

As for the murderer... we don’t get to see him very much, but I felt like I got to know him because so much of the book was focused on mapping out his life and psychology. It worked much better than books where the antagonist is looming off to the side, acting as a vaguely threatening force but not really a character, and one that doesn’t even show up until the last quarter of the book. When the killer finally does appear on page, I felt like he had been involved in the story, even without being physically present, so I was able to accept him as an active force on the narrative, not just a surprise twist at the end.

TL;DR: The Alienist is a well-crafted mystery that uses atmosphere and psychology to create an engaging mystery. While some readers may struggle with the period-like prose or the more disturbing aspects of the story, Carr creates a compelling narrative by focusing on understanding and knowledge over spectacle and action, and by using well-developed characters.

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 29

The history and philosophy of science is (like all literatures, I suspect) shot through with vital texts no one much reads anymore. For biology, psychology, and some corners of philosophy, Jakob Johann Freiherr von Uexküll’s 1934 A Foray Into the Worlds of Animals and Humans (originally party to the far better title Streifzüge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen) is one of those texts.

The How

This is the exact sort of book academic libraries are outfitted to supply you; older translations with good covers are pretty common. This is the most recent, and cheapest, preparation, which I own mostly because I found it used. Should you wish to read this exact printing (2010, University of Minnesota, trans. Joseph D. O’Neil), it’s available as a PDF here.

The Text

I could say a lot of things here, none of which would probably satisfy the future me that’ll inevitably reread this at some point. Let me say only some of those things and hope for grace.

This text shared an era with behaviorism (fuck you, Watson), among other paradigms (fuck you, Kuhn). Pre-ethology, more or less; certainly pre-posthumanism. Into that problematic mosh strode Uexküll with haymakers like ‘Space and time are of no immediate use to the subject.’ Uexküll was a non-Darwinian. Uexküll wanted to use terms like ‘Umwelt’ and ‘magical path’ and ‘reflex republic’. Uexküll made a lot of people very annoyed.

Time has been pretty kind to some of his perspectives. His Umwelt concept has more miles on it than he could’ve dreamed; reflex republics are mainstays of, as one current example, Peter Godfrey-Smith’s work on cephalopod cognition. His main evolution (fuck you, Uexküll) was to see the worlds of animals — and therefore also of humans, ish — as incommensurable mappings of shared surroundings.

For this book, an individual’s world is necessarily made up only of what the individual perceives and how it perceives it. Cognition works on those perceived worlds; the worlds of individuals with different perceptions and cognitions are fundamentally different. This, coupled with an early tack toward cybernetics and some mechanical perspectives on physiology, make this arguably the cornerstone of biosemiotics. Good shit.

Also, Dorion Sagan wrote the introduction. I don’t remember liking it much, but I’m not gonna reread it for this pissant little post. Safe to say I wouldn’t have a favorable review.

The Object

This is disappointingly milquetoast on the part of the University of Minnesota press — as far as I can tell, the only liberties taken were with a few inexplicably colored glossy plates and the Sagan intro. Bare minimum in terms of paper; dumb fucking cover. Luckily it’s saved by Uexküll’s original illustrations, including numbers like

Free Him (1934) and Bicep Tattoo for Ms. Frizzle as Sketched by @girlfriendsofthegalaxy (1934):

The Why, Though?

Because (1) German shit and (2) philosophy of biology shit and (3) used book shit. I actually do reference this one occasionally, which reliably feels good. Handy to have access to, if only mental.

[chiantidinner]

THE UNCLE WORRIES

"Well, as you have the formidability of an Adler and the intellegence of a Holmes, I don't believe these moronic obstructions will interfere with the path you will take on in the future, now will it?"

\\~\\

"Yes, I'm fine- NO! Your father musn't hear about this!" Nero berated loudly to the phone stuck to his ear, hands flinging outwardly and feet rustling about outside the school gates.

The Adler-Holmes offspring had just retired from school for the day and was yearning to be back at the home-y confines of Bakerstreet; just him, his father, occassional (now, more often) visits from his mother, the skull on the mantelpiece, and the ghastly laboratory equipments filling the whole of the kitchen area - but it wasn't until he recieved the call from Rosie, aware of what had transpired between him and a couple of boys their age, who think themsleves as tyrants, and had offered a solution that involved telling John Watson about the matter at hand.

"You know he'll tell father and..." The boy paused, sighing, rubbing his elbow and hissing as he felt a slight sting of the movement, "Rosamund, don't you dare-"

Nero's attempt to dispose his friend out of the idea had suddenly died down his throat, ignoring her cries as he watched a black Jaguar car pull up right in front of him. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly but his expression remained stoic, hearing how the car door clicked and started to swing open. Nero tightened his grasp on the phone and muttered lowly, "I have to go.", then ending the call. He carried his long limbs toward the opening, slowly rasing his chin to imply confidence. Assuming the man inside the car is who Nero thinks he is, he'd have to appear much like his father - though for what reason, he doesn't know.

As he steps closer, a figure of a woman in a suit with light brown hair comes to view - further proving that the man responsible to the mysterious arrival of the vehicle, is indeed his uncle and not wealthy kidnappers trying to take him as bait for his father to willingly catch (which, unfortunately, has happened more than once in his 16 years of life). The boy closed the door beside him as he sat down on the leather seat, sighing before turning to face Mycroft - his apprehension expertly covered by his naturally sour facade.

"Nero." The older man inclined his head to his direction, as a way of greeting, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

"Good afternoon to you too, sir." the boy replied, still with a stoic and blank face.

Mycroft tried hard to hide his grimace as he heard his nephew call him: sir.

Ever since he was shown to Mycroft, it never really deemed him to be called uncle - much less ever being one - but the boy was different. The boy was far too brilliant and belongs to a far more extraordinary family than normal people would suspect. It impressed Mycroft how easily he could start a conversation with adults and then finds chatting with other children boring and annoying, how he could find clues in the most discrete of places at such a young age, and how he could act realistically and would use that against people that were worth the punishment, but he could say he wasn't the least bit surprised; he was Sherlock Holmes' and Irene Adler's son, after all.

"May I ask what could be so terribly important that you couldn't have just called me?" Nero replied pointedly, itching to get this over with and go home.

"I have heard about the shooting near your school and came to pick you up myself."

Nero's blank facade finally came crumbling down when it was replaced with pure confusion, mixed with a bit of shock, his face pulling into a grimace and his eyebrows knit together. The boy searched a reason from his uncle as he bore his eyes into his, but found that he didn't want anything from him and that his actions were from familial concern, apprehension, guilt (he didn't know where that came from), and, as much as he would deny, sentiment. He opened his mouth but no words came out, and the second try was unsuccessfull as well.

When he finally found the breath to reply, he choked out, "...Why?"

Much to the younger boy's surprise, Mycroft's demeanor actually softened; a soft grin played on his lips that spoke volumes, sharp brown eyes losing their sting. He looked nothing like what Nero had ever seen of his uncle, even his assisstant looked utterly surprised.

"Because I don't want my only nephew to become like my brother." Mycroft's eyes now showed signs of sadness and... guilt.

Ah, that's where that came from, Nero thought to himself.

"Really? Because I believe my father is in a good place. He receives inquiries for cases from the Yard, still gets to bring John Watson with him, and as much as he'd deny it.. he has his family. I would rather want to become like my father."

The British Prime Minister opened his mouth to speak, but not before something caught his eye: the scratches on Nero's elbow.

Nero covered his arms with his bag quickly upon realization, but the damage was done; Mycroft knew what happened to his nephew. He straightened and turned to the window - his face now unreadable and dismissive, a sharp contrast to the previous expression he donned.

"Tyrants." He spoke after a moment's pause, "Although they do not hold a single grudge in comparison to our intellect, they are the worst and most destructive enemies, us, Holmes' are destined to face - other than criminal masterminds. They are the ghosts that haunt our every sunny day, scribbled letters we keep in the very back of our minds." Mycroft continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his gaze slowly turning to the boy in front of him, a corner of his lips jerking upward knowingly (that somehow reminded him of his father's), "And you, to no surprise, have your own fair share, Nero."

For the first time since he stepped into the car, he allowed a one-sided but warm smile to appear on his face and felt pride fill his body. He wasn't proud that generations and generations of the family were ganged up and hurt, just because of their inexplicably curious nature. No. He was proud of the fact that they simply acknowledge the particular attribute each of them holds, that this experience may wound and scar them, but will always have their prodigious intellect as plaster.

"Well, as you have the formidability of an Adler and the intellegence of a Holmes, I don't believe these moronic obstructions will interfere with the path you will take on in the future, now will it?"

The car came to a halt and suddenly they were at the Bakerstreet pavement.

"Nevertheless," Mycroft ducked his head slightly and glanced upwards to see his brother watching the car from the window, and turned back to Nero, "I hope you take this little conversation of ours as a precaution to not take into account what those babbling baboons imply to yourself."

"You are a smart boy, Nero. Make use of your intellegence for the greater good."

With nothing else to say, the boy merely nodded slyly, grabbed his bag and went out the door. But as he stepped foot on the hard ground, his name was being called from inside the car.

"Nero."

The person donning the name ducked and poked his head inside with an expectant look on his pale face.

Mycroft hesitated and sighed in fustration, his lips pursed together in a thin line, "I-... I worry about you as I do with my brother. I don't want you going through what he did."

Nero ginned once again, this time honest and genuine, his eyes smiling along with his lips, "I am aware.. uncle."

Giving, one tight smile to Mycroft and his assisstant, Nero disappeared from the door and into 221B Bakerstreet.

It was then that Mycroft realized the boy was as much every bit of his brother, and at the same time, not.

\\~\\

First of all, thank you to everyone who read and had actually finished lmao. Second, WOHOO my first fic!!

I got this idea from my own headcanon that generations of Holmes' - from the Holmes parents, to Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus, then Nero - were belittled and made fun of, because of their extraordinary intellegence, whether that was in school, or in the world at large. So, I incorporated that into this fic, mixed in with 'responsible-and-protective-big-brother-Mycroft' but instead of brother, we have uncle to Nero because, why not?

I also sort of made this because I had writer's block and read somewhere to write what's inside your pretty little head to bring back your natural creativity...

But, back to the matter at hand, I hope you guys liked it and I would REALLY love if you left some feedback and suggestions as to how I can improve my writing skills.

Much love, R. xx

[shyrose57]

2nd part.

Other: Both groups understand they have different ways of showing affection and closeness. Though Charles does hesitantly ask Jackie if Ran ever shows affection, to which Jackie answers that he does he just isn't a very physical person. 

After Ran first attacks and injuries Ranbob, and once the groups get the two separate, they sit down and talk. The Gladiators go first, saying they've never seen Ran that aggressive and angry before and ask what Ranbob could've done. To which the Fishermen tell them (to an extent. Somethings they leave out as its best for Ranbob to tell them) and after sharing, ask what Ran's relationship with Ranbob was. Where Watson says Ran said before he had a brother, and they then connect the pieces. So in summary, the Gladiators know about Ranbob being controlled by Dream, what Ranbob as done, how it affected him, and what the Fishermen have done to help him out and the progress Ranbob has made. While the Fishermen know that Ran has said he had a brother (Ranbob said it too), Ran having to survive on his own for years, And Ran having nightmare's but don't know what they are about. 

The Gladiators are skeptical of Ranbobs story, but after reading a bit of a dairy Ranbob recorded the experience in when able to, and both picture and multiple eye-witness accounts they eventually believe him. 

He ran from the hunters for around 4 years, he also lived alone and learned to survive during his time, while being constantly on the move. Multiple times the brothers have said something concerning, either jokingly or very casually, but both ways the brothers groups have responded with utmost concern and basically interrogating them until they find out the events behind what they said. Where they then either leave it be, or there's more talking, comforting, and maybe even cuddle piles. 

It happens once during the trip, when Ranbob just isnt having a good day at all, when he relapses he immediately tells the Fishermen (as he has grown to do), who then go to comfort him and do a sort of therapy. Ran immediately uses the relapse as evidence that he shouldn't be trusted and that he is still the same person he was before. While Watson, ignoring him, goes to see if he can do anything to help, while Grievous and Jackie try to lead Ran away to cause less stress for Ranbob. 

It is confusing at first for them, and when their finally able to, they (both groups) ask eachother what different instincts their enderman friend has. And after exchanging it they just kinda leave it be then and accept it. Sometimes Cletus will laugh when he just randomly sees Ran carrying someone around and mocks them, but Ran tends to growl at him when he mocks the person he's carrying, so he doesn't mock em often. 

He was only able to eat crackers, nuts and seeds, and dried out vegetables. So when he first goes to the Fishermen's house he's only able to keep down stuff like soup and again crackers. Though he's able to slowly work his way up to eating meat, which then he's able to keep most things down. 

The gladiators are overwhelmingly happy about no longer following such a strict schedule and can spend their time doing whatever they want. The fishermen are at first a bit hesitant at adventuring, seeing as they never really adventured outside of their home to much before, but are still very excited to see new places and get new items. Cuddle piles are sometimes shared amongst the groups, but strictly when neither of the brothers are nearby, other habits like telling bed time stories and sharing supplies and food are shared amongst the groups. While a sort of therapy sessions type habit are only in the fishermen group. And making and testing weapons are only in the gladiator group. For nicknames, Ran- Tall man/Tall bastard, Jackie- Jack, Shorty(teasingly/jokingly), Watson- Dad, Grievous- Ugly, John, Gri, Ranbob- Bobby, Benjamin- Benny, Ben, Charles- (Just Charles), Cletus- Wildfire, Little shit (Isaac only calls him that, Benjamin doesn't like it though), Isaac- Saac (pronounced as Isaac without the I, or just Zack).

The fishermen live a calmer, more quite life. Where the most active they've gotten is going to Mizu and getting Ranbob and a few attempted robbing. While the gladiators live a very active and fighting filled life, with only a few breaks where they can do whatever they want too. The fishermen are more accepting of outsiders and willing to give them a chance in their group. While the gladiators, you need to prove you can earn a place and are more tight in their group (Which is partly why it means so much to Ran and shocks him when his haunting welcomes Ranbobs group into their group). The fishermen are more freewilled, not having to follow a schedule. While the gladiators do follow a schedule and typically don't get much freewill.

They originally wanted to live in Mizu. But after the discovery of the Dream Mask Benjamin stated that it was far too dangerous to stay, much less live there. So they instead just went and looted the area then left 

As of now I do not plan to add anymore characters. Maybe they'll meet some while traveling but im not positive yet, if they do meet someone later on though it'll probably be either Wilburs decendent, or if I include other Tales I'll include them probably. 

It is very hard to convince Ran for a good while that what happened to Ranbob was the truth, but when he does finally accept it he's horrified. He feels incredibly guilty about leaving his brother and doing nothing during this whole time other than making it harder for him to recover. And immediately does what he can to make it up and help him out. And to the relief of the others, the brothers start to grow closer again, although there's still some problems. It took multiple tales of Mizu and Dream from all around the world, some very old records about how manipulative Dream was and how it seemed he had supernatural powers, and even finding Ranbobs journal and deciding to read it for safety reasons (where its recorded Ranbobs deteriorating mental state and all of the events where Dream came in, and even Dream wrote in it sometimes, comparing it to Ranboos Memory Book.)

Personalities (More may be added later): Ran- Secretive, protective, quite, joking when gotten close too, patient, serious mostly. Watson- Kind, very approachable, the father figure, logical, has a very comforting presence. Jackie- Playful, joking, mean at times, teasing, loud, energetic. Grievous- Very kind, energetic at times, quite, prankster, hard to trust someone. Ranbob- Quite, shy, well-meaning, clumsy, hesitant in things, very eager to please someone. Benjamin- Truthworthy, comforting presence, kind, approachable. Cletus- Chaotic, mean at times, prankster, loud, confident, energetic. Isaac- Leader figure, kind, logical, playful. Charles- Quite, shy, anxious, smart, logical. And idk if you want him too but Porkius- Confident, arrogant, hard headed/stubborn, hard to talk with, but extremely willing to make changes and call off events if serious injury to anyone is threatened. 

Sorry if some answers are dull, I had trouble coming up with answers and wording some of them. But as a bonus I thought of something that could happen while traveling (while they've been traveling for almost 5 months now). Maybe a thunderstorm is coming in and the group is trying to find shelter and they find it mostly in time, but the brothers start to really get into a verbal fight during the searching and so start to lag behind. And just as it starts to storm more Ran screams and yells "YOUR NOTHING MORE THAN AN MURDER! NOTHING YOU EVER DO WILL MAKE UP FOR ALL YOU'VE DONE!"(or something similar) Which just really breaks Ranbob, and the two stand across from eachother in the rain, before Ranbob chokes out a heartbroken agreement and runs off. Ran almost going to chase after him, but deciding not too, and going to meet up with the group.  Also Ranbob having a nightmare about when he first saw Ran again and is terrified in the nightmare, as no one is there to actually stop Ran this time (this happens before the thunderstorm part). So he does actually begin to kill him, and during the dream he keeps seeing glimpses of he and Ran as kids, being so close and laughing and everything. Then just before he wakes up he sees a younger, tween Ran directly next to the Ran killing him, and the Vision Ran's face is frozen in a scream of terror and heartbroken look in his eyes, and his eyes are filled to the brim of tears (which is the exact moment a Ranbob controlled by Dream turns the blade on Ran suddenly). Which just completely breaks Ranbobs heart, and when he wakes up, with tears frozen on his face, he can't look at Ran for days without seeing the terrified face of his younger brother. 

1: So they’re pretty chill about it. Alright. 

2: Fairly skeptical, but still willing to help out, and eventually coming to agree. Interesting. Ranbob has a diary? From before? That must be quite the interesting read. How much did young Ranbob understand was going on? How did he feel about it? Just how much does his diary show of his mental decline? Does he still have it? Were the Gladiators supposed to be reading it, or is it more of a ‘I found this, let’s see what’s inside’ thing? And I know the eye-witness accounts are probably the fishermen, but what are the pictures? Of Ranbob before Dream, back in Mizu? Of Ranbob when the fishermen found him?

3: Casually drops trauma on them, huh? What kind of things have been said? How much of it do these two traumatized gremlins think is the norm? Does Ran have any particular enemies with the hunters? Was it hard for him to settle in one place again?

4: What do these relapse consist of, exactly? Ranbob becoming aggressive? Trying to run? Can’t imagine Ran’s too happy Watson ignored him about it. What was the aftermath of this event? Does Ran know what a relapse means, or does he just overhear and assume?

5: So Ran totes people around, and Cletus occasionally makes fun of them. How long before someone points out that Ranbob, as you put it, follows them around like a lost puppy, in retaliation? 

6: The more I hear about Ranbob, the more I kind of want to wrap him in a warm blanket, give him cocoa, and go threaten Dream with bodily harm. That kind of food isn’t exactly great nourishment. If that’s the kind of thing he was eating, and only once every three days, I’m not shocked the Fishermen managed to force him into a room. Or that his house kept falling on him. Poor guy must be a malnourished noodle-stick. Honestly, he sounds light enough Cletus could probably carry him around. Or a breeze could. Hopefully he gets a little more weight on him, he needs it. 

7: Sounds like the first few days of the trip are probably pretty chaotic, with everyone adjusting. But they sound like they’re having fun, so that’s good. What kind of things are the two brothers doing to be gone long enough for their groups to be able to cuddle pile for a bit? Gathering supplies? Do they just know, and do their own thing for a bit so their hauntings can chill together? And Bobby, huh? Sounds an awful lot like what Ran used to call Ranbob. Who exactly revived the nickname, and what was both Ranbob’s reaction to it being brought back, and Ran’s reactions to hearing it again? 

8: The clash between lifestyles seems to be a pretty big one. The gladiators are a bit more willing to jump into things, and the fishermen are generally more open. Seems like they’ll contrast nicely once things settle down. So it’s kind of a big deal for the gladiators to just welcome the fishermen? You said they have to prove themselves. Do the fishermen ever end up doing something like that, or are they just an exception? Or is it that what they’ve already done proved themselves? 

9: They just loot the place, huh? Do they keep what they find or sell it? What’s Ranbob’s feelings about that?

10: A Wilbur descendant? Interesting. 

11: Oof. Well, at least they’re figuring it out. So there’s records about Dream and such? Do they just happen to find them, or are they led there? Who wrote those records? Does Ranbob notice when they find them, find some himself, or is that part of the trip he doesn’t know about? And Dream wrote in Ranbob’s journal too? Yikes. That must have been terrifying for Ranbob to experience. He compared it to Ranboo’s memory book, huh? Did that mean Ranbob figured out that something similar was happening to his ancestor? If so, how did he feel about it? And how does Ran feel about Dream’s part in all this? What does he do once he finally accepts it? Hug Ranbob? Apologize? Try to murder Dream?

12: Sounds like quite interesting group there. Charles and Ranbob both being shy sounds adorable honestly. Porkius sounds like he knows what he’s doing, and does it well.

13: They don’t seem particularly dull to me. But thank you for the heart-crushing scene, I’ll cherish it forever. Do the fishermen chase after Ranbob? How do the gladiators feel about that whole thing? Does Ran feel a bit guilty about it?