#mrs. hudson is a saint

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

taylor swift lyrics x colors x textiles in art – blue

Tim McGraw – Taylor Swift // Portrait of Marie-Joseph Peyre – Marie-Suzanne Giroust 💙 Tim McGraw – Taylor Swift // Lady in the Boudoir – Gustav Holweg-Glantschnigg 💙 A Place in This World – Taylor Swift // Portrait of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester – Jean-Étienne Liotard 💙 Dear John – Speak Now // Young Woman in a Blue Dress – Jacopo Negretti 💙 State of Grace – Red // Portrait of Mrs. Matthew Tilghman and her Daughter – John Hesselius 💙 Red – Red // An Unknown Man – Joseph Highmore 💙 All Too Well – Red // Portrait of a Man with a Quilted Sleeve – Titian 💙 Everything Has Changed – Red // Portrait of the Marquis de Saint-Paul – Jean-Baptiste Greuze 💙 Starlight – Red // Mrs. Richard Brown – John Hesselius 💙 Run – Red // Judith with the Head of Holofernes – Felice Ficherelli 💙 This Love – 1989 // Fair Rosamund – John William Waterhouse 💙 Delicate – Reputation // Miss Elizabeth Ingram – Joshua Reynolds 💙 Gorgeous – Reputation // Marguerite Hessein, Lady of Rambouillet de la Sablière – workshop of Henri and Charles Beaubrun 💙 Dancing with Our Hands Tied – Reputation // George Albert, Prince of East Frisia – Johann Conrad Eichler

Cruel Summer – Lover // Peter August Friedrich von Koskull – Michael Ludwig Claus 💙 Lover – Lover // Lady Oxenden – Joseph Wright of Derby 💙 Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince – Lover // Portrait of Ivan Ivanovich Betskoi – Alexander Roslin 💙 Paper Rings – Lover // Young Woman in a Blue Dress – Jacopo Negretti 💙 London Boy – Lover // Queen Henrietta Maria with Sir Jeffrey Hudson – Anthony van Dyck 💙 Afterglow – Lover // Portrait of Prince Dmitry Mikhailovich Golitsyn – Fyodor Rokotov 💙 Christmas Tree Farm – Christmas Tree Farm // Portrait of Mary Ruthven, Lady van Dyck – Anthony van Dyck 💙 invisible string – folklore // Two Altar Wings with the Visitation of Mary – unknown artist 💙 invisible string – folklore // Portrait of Madame de Pompadour – François Boucher 💙 peace – folklore // Fair Rosamund – John William Waterhouse 💙 hoax – folklore // Portrait of Charles le Normant du Coudray – Jean-Baptiste Perronneau 💙 coney island – evermore // Portrait of the Marquis de Saint-Paul – Jean-Baptiste Greuze 💙 Carolina – Carolina // Mrs. Daniel Sargent – John Singleton Copley 💙 Bejeweled – Midnights // Elsa Elisabeth Brahe – David Klöcker Ehrenstrahl 💙 The Great War – Midnights // Portrait of Françoise Marie de Bourbon – attributed to François de Troy 💙 Hits Different – Midnights // Mrs. Benjamin Pickman – John Singleton Copley

[friday411]

The Most Patient Woman in London

Mrs Hudson, the Baker St saint Is a model of poise and restraint. Two-twenty-one B Is a horror to see. So she often has cause for complaint.

-=<+>=-

----- See them all on AO3 ----

Thanks for reading, reposting & leaving the love!

Tags in the comments as well. Please LMK if you want on or off the list! @stellacartography @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @ghostofnuggetspast @helloliriels

[leastdatablebracket]

Here's the bracket for round 1! I intend to start posting matches tomorrow.

Group 1 (Matches 1-16)

Sam Wayne (Scarlet Hollow) VS Penny (Stardew Valley)

Joy Johnson-Johjima (Monster Prom) VS Vladamir (Moonlight Lovers)

P.S. Elle (Romancelvania) VS Saint Germain (Code: Realize)

Bram Galeborn (Tales of the Wild) VS Jumin Han (Mystic Messenger)

Edgar Morton (To Love & Protect) VS Zen (Mystic Messenger)

Nowi (Fire Emblem Awakening) VS Elise (Fire Emblem Fates)

Maison Talo (House Hunted) VS Sam (Stardew Valley)

Akihiko Sanada (Persona 3 Portable) VS Sam Dalton (Choices - The Nanny Affair)

Ota Kisaki (Kissed by the Baddest Bidder) VS Casavir (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Anna (Fire Emblem Engage) VS Yang (Piofiore Fated Memories)

Isabela (Dragon Age 2) VS Shuu Iwamine (Hatoful Boyfriend)

Liam de Lioncourt (Monster Prom) VS Sunder (Boyfriend Dungeon)

Cassandra Pentaghast (Dragon Age Inquisition) VS Curie (Fallout 4)

Cliff (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town) VS Sylvain Jose Gautier (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Hanatsubaki Gorō (Tokimeki Memorial Girl’s First Love) VS Leliana (Dragon Age Origins)

Barbatos (Obey Me) VS Solas (Dragon Age Inquisition)

Group 2 (Matches 17-32)

Nightowl (Blooming Panic: Full Bloom Edition) VS Isako Toriumi (Persona 3)

Adam/Ava du Mortain (Wayhaven Chronicles) VS Drake Walker (Choices - The Royal Romance)

Taro Majima (Tokimeki Memorial Girl’s Side 2nd Season) VS Vace (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Yoosung Kim (Mystic Messenger) VS Siren Head (Siren Head Dating Sim)

Rick (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town) VS V (Mystic Messenger)

Ken Amada (Persona 3 Portable) VS Lorenz Hellman Gloucester (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Bigfoot (Dialtown) VS Damien Ramsey (Magical Diary)

Merrill (Dragon Age 2) VS Landon (High School Dreams Best Friends Forever)

Vyn Richter (Tears of Themis) VS Sumire Yoshizawa (Persona 5 Royal)

Sebastian (Stardew Valley) VS Triss Merigold (Witcher 3)

Rock (Story of Seasons: A Wonderful Life) VS Morrigan (Dragon Age Origins)

Gray (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town) VS Calculester Hewlett-Packard (Monster Prom)

Harry Choi (The Ssum) VS Ichiko Ohya (Persona 5)

Sadayo Kawakami (Persona 5) VS Randy Jade (Dialtown)

Kevan (Long Live the Queen) VS Camellia (Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous)

Ace (Heart no Kuni no Alice) VS Rhea (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Group 3 (Matches 33-48)

Ilessa (Romancelvania) VS Dolce (Rune Factory 4)

Sothis (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) VS Laito Sakamaki (Diabolik Lovers)

Cameron Conner (Wylde Flowers) VS Sera (Dragon Age Inquisition)

Elliott (Stardew Valley) VS Shane (Stardew Valley)

Mikah Hudson (Save Me, Sherlock) VS Harvey (Stardew Valley)

Towa Wakasa (Sweet Fuse: At Your Side) VS Shiloh Fields (XOXO Droplets)

Arsene Lupin (Code: Realize) VS Blackwall (Dragon Age Inquisition)

Vere (Touchstarved) VS Shiki (Togainu no Chi)

Sebastian Vael (Dragon Age 2) VS Toma (Amnesia: Memories)

Sakura (Fire Emblem Fates) VS Ethan Ramsey (Choices - Open Heart)

Warren (Life is Strange) VS Ryoma (Fire Emblem Fates)

Katherine (Catherine) VS Jonah (Boyfriend Dungeon)

Anders (Dragon Age 2) VS Dorian Grey (OZMAFIA!!)

Skye (Harvest Moon DS Cute) VS Tammy (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Fenris (Dragon Age 2) VS Dys (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Peter King (Your Boyfriend Game) VS Eisuke Ichinomiya (Kissed by the Baddest Bidder)

Group 4 (Matches 49-64)

Tharja (Fire Emblem Awakening) VS Jacob Taylor (Mass Effect 2)

Elanee (Neverwinter Nights 2) VS Megaricus (Kaichu - The Kaiju Dating Sim)

Joseph Christiansen (Dream Daddy) VS Naoto Shirogane (Persona 4)

Mr. Pages (Mask of the Rose) VS Soleil (Fire Emblem Fates)

Baxter Ward (Our Life: Beginnings & Always) VS Ryouta Kazama (Tokimeki Memorial Girl’s Side 4)

Colonel Sanders (I Love You, Colonel Sanders!) VS Kappa (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town)

Andy (Romance Club) VS Micah Yujin (Error143)

Anomen Delryn (Baldur’s Gate 2) VS Koolie Sterling (Tentador Leches)

Canus Espada (Cafe Enchante) VS Nah (Fire Emblem Awakening)

Doctor (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town) VS Lucy (Your Boyfriend Game)

Amber (Rune Factory 4) VS Marco (Lovelink)

Alfani (OZMAFIA!!) VS Makoto Niijima (Persona 5)

Haley (Stardew Valley) VS Azura (Fire Emblem Fates)

Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age Origins) VS Kai (Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town)

Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club) VS The Red Prince (Divinity: Original Sin 2)

Lucio Morgasson (The Arcana) VS Cullen Rutherford (Dragon Age Inquisition)

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Three

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Chapter Three: Fiery Celebrations

Summary: Sherlock, John, and Mary race to help (Y/N).

            (Y/N)’s eyes opened blearily, and they groaned as they tried to move. The world was dark around them with just slivers of light filtered into the strange wooden box they were in (hopefully not a coffin). There were shouts going on around them, but (Y/N)’s attention was quickly taken by the terrible heat around them. The stifling smoke pushed into their lungs, and they coughed.

            Fire.

l

            “What?” snapped Sherlock, instantly on edge at John’s words.

            “John got a message,” said Mary, pushing John forward.

            John held up his phone, but Sherlock just snatched it from his hands to read the message from the, of course, unknown number.

Save souls now! (Y/N) or James Moriarty? Saint or Sinner? James or (Y/N)? The more is less?

            “First word, then every third,” said Mary instantly. “Skip code.”

            Sherlock understood at the same moment. This note was meant to be decrypted, so it was not a mystery but a message—a warning. “Save…(Y/N)…Moriarty…Saint…James…The…Less.” Sherlock dropped John’s phone, and the doctor caught it. “Now!” Sherlock ran out the door, and John and Mary ran after him.

            “Sherlock?!” said Mrs. Hudson in shock as he ran by.

            “No time, Mrs. Hudson!” said Sherlock, throwing the door open.

            “Where are we going?” said John as he ran out with Sherlock.

            “St. James the Less. A church,” said Sherlock. “Did you drive here?”

            “Yes,” said Mary.

            “Twenty minutes by car.” Sherlock nearly cursed. “Too slow, too slow.” His eyes landed on the approaching motorcyclist. He stepped out and held up a hand.

l

            John, Mary, and Sherlock zipped down the streets of London on the bike. Sherlock knew it would take ten minutes, but he was doing his best (and risking their safety on the motorcycle) to get to the church even faster.

            John’s phone went off, and he held up the screen so the new message could be seen.

Getting warmer Mr. Holmes You have about ten minutes

            “What does it mean?” said Mary worriedly. “What are they going to do to them?”

            “I don’t know,” said Sherlock, narrowing his eyes and taking the next two turns at high speeds.

            “We’ve got another!” shouted John over the wind as they traveled.

8 minutes and counting…

            “Damn!” shouted Sherlock as they arrived at a roadblock and he had to press down the brakes.

            Instantly calculating another route, he turned the motorcycle around and sped up again. It would take five more minutes—five more minutes he didn’t know if (Y/N) had—and go over a pedestrian walkway. The illegality was worth it for (Y/N), and Sherlock weaved through the shouting people.

            “Sherlock!” said John worriedly, and Sherlock almost snapped at him for interrupting until he saw John holding up his phone again.

Better hurry Things are heating up here

            Sherlock sped up but slammed to a stop as a lorry passed by slowly. Come on, come on. Sherlock gritted his teeth. He needed to get to his kid. (Y/N) needed him. He wouldn’t let them down again.

            “Another,” said John, and he sucked in a breath in worry as he read the new message.

Stay of execution You’ve got two more minutes

            The lorry finally passed, and Sherlock jerked the motorcycle into life again. He swerved off the street and onto the pedestrian walkway to get straight to the church in one minute. They bumped up stairs onto another street and raced along the fence of a park.

            “Bloody—It’s vague again!” said John, and Sherlock glanced at the latest message.

What a shame, Mr. Holmes (Y/N) was quite a Guy

            “What does it mean?” said Mary worriedly.

            “Fire,” said Sherlock, turning the motorcycle and crashing into the park where a group of people were cheering around a lit bonfire. “Jump!”

            John and Mary obeyed and jumped off the motorcycle while Sherlock just let it drop to the ground. He pushed through the crowd towards the bonfire. “Move, move, move, move, move!” he shouted.

            “Help!” Beneath the cheers of celebrating people, (Y/N)’s voice rang out from within the fire.

            “(Y/N)!” cried Sherlock, and Mary gasped in horror and John’s eyes widened.

            Sherlock crouched and pulled wood pieces aside as (Y/N)’s coughs and hoarse cries rang out. John and Mary knelt and grabbed blocks of wood. They threw them to the side and ignored the soot and heat at their fingers. Sherlock reached in and grabbed (Y/N)’s hand. He pulled them out from within the bonfire as they coughed. He held them tightly as they tried to breathe.

            “Dad,” coughed (Y/N), holding onto him as an anchor.

            “I’m here,” said Sherlock. “I’ve got you.” He was their dad. He would be there for them.

            “I called 999,” said John. “An ambulance is coming to check on them.”

            Sherlock nodded and just sat there with (Y/N) in his arms. His kid was alive. He’d saved them.

            However, someone had also targeted them specifically to get to him. Moriarty was gone, but (Y/N) wasn’t safe. Sherlock held them close. Whoever was out there, he’d win any game they started against him.

            He’d protect (Y/N).

l

            (Y/N) had been checked out by the ambulance and confirmed to be alright, so they had been released to head back with Sherlock to 221B. Sherlock had hovered worriedly, but he had tried to give (Y/N) space as they washed and put on clean clothes to get away from the choking smell of smoke and flames. The instant they were back in the living room, though, Sherlock was offering tea with honey for their throat and making sure they were relaxed and not overexerting themself after nearly dying and being kidnapped.

            “Are you alright?” asked Sherlock.

            “I was kidnapped and nearly killed again,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly.

            Sherlock could only nod. He had been back for less than a day, and already, he had failed him. “I should have gone out. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

            “Don’t do that,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            “What?” said Sherlock, furrowing his brow.

            “Blaming yourself,” said (Y/N). They held their teacup tightly. “You—You left me because you thought leaving would keep me safe. Don’t starting thinking that again.”

            “The messages were a warning to me. My return prompted this.” Sherlock knew (Y/N)’s intelligence recognized that.

            “A threat showed their face,” said (Y/N). “Isn’t it better that they did?”

            “You got hurt. You could have died,” said Sherlock protectively.

            “Whoever did this can easily hurt people.” They looked at Sherlock fiercely. “I’d rather it be me because we can take on people like them. They made a move because you’re back and they’re scared or they need something. They’re dangerous because of that.”

            “And you want me to stay and handle them,” said Sherlock.

            “I want us to take on this new mastermind,” said (Y/N). “Us.” They stared at Sherlock intently and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t want you to leave again.”

            “I won’t,” said Sherlock, reaching out and taking the teacup from their shaking hands. “I’m here.”

            “Do you promise?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Sherlock. He smiled. “We’ll handle this case together.”

            “Because we’re a team,” said (Y/N), relaxing slightly.

            Sherlock felt his chest warm as he felt (Y/N) opening up again as their determination to help people—the part of them he was so proud of—burned brightly. “Because we’re family.”

            (Y/N) looked back down at the tea on the coffee table. They didn’t respond positively or negatively, but Sherlock knew his kid. They were still working through their feelings, but they weren’t closing themself out from him completely. And that was alright. Sherlock would give them time.

            “So, let’s recap what we know,” said Sherlock, taking (Y/N)’s mind away from the confusing nature of feelings and giving them the case to focus on.

            “This was clearly to get to you,” said (Y/N). “Targeting me and sending the messages to John was obvious.”

            Sherlock nodded. “And the words were addressed to me.”

            “Whoever is behind this was smart,” said (Y/N). “The code was simple to show that they understand how to play games are just making a point to you.”

            "They gave me time to save you to show that they have power and make the rules,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) tensed, and their fingers twitched anxiously. “Like Moriarty and his games.”

            “He’s gone,” said Sherlock firmly.

            (Y/N) nodded jerkily and just moved on. They didn’t like thinking about Moriarty. They furrowed their brow as they ran through everything they knew about the situation. “John was rambling when I was found. Did he say that he was glad Mary realized the original message was a skip code and got him to go to you?”

            Sherlock nodded. “If she had not, all the timing would’ve been off.”

            “How did she know it was a skip code?” murmured (Y/N).

            Sherlock laced his fingers. “More importantly—did the person behind this know she’d recognize it and use it intentionally?”

            (Y/N) and Sherlock exchanged looks. They knew it meant that Mary was also involved in this. (Y/N) and John had been dragged in to make a point—a warning—to Sherlock. But Mary? She was a new addition to the group. The question of where her connection lay was important. Sherlock and (Y/N) didn’t believe in coincidences. Mary knowing the skip code and it being chosen was significant.

            The only question was if its significance would prove dangerous.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

[radfemsiren]

Categories in my mind:

5, 7, saint paddies day, Thursdays, orange, March, June, bloopers, cropping a shirt with a hair tie, rolling down a grass hill, hot weather with a cool breeze, water parks, PTA park events and awkward hackey sack games, the flip flop is going to catch on your bike pedal so you slow down, summer reading list (specifically the book Frindle), laughing at the bizarre garbage at a beach clean up, heat and play

2, 4, February, peppermint coffee, Monday , blue and periwinkle, the feel of crunching snow cone ice, January, New Year’s resolutions, Pam Beasley’s pastel wardrobe from season 1-2, children’s books about ballerina mice, finding an ancient velvet hair scrunchy in your winter jacket pocket, Zoella type YouTubers late Christmas hauls, watching the hobbit and developing a crush on Orlando Bloom, peeling birchbark, bottle episodes/three episode arcs, calmness and cold

9, 8, 6 December, November, no nightlight just a fully dark room to sleep in, Saturday, goodbyes, season finale/ finale episodes, string lights on a porch, krampus, ghost and paranormal videos on YouTube, Christmas episodes, silent hill, wearing fuzzy pajama pants in a gas station at midnight, the night sky above a desert, muffled family arguments while the cousins play Mario kart, finality and darkness

10, 11, 1, 3, orange, Halloween, Fridays, sidewalk at night in front of a friends house before a party starts, Regular Show Halloween specials, beer, cider, campfire smoke, fantastic Mr fox, the scholastic book fair, running into a teacher at a grocery store, maple flavored oatmeal, Japanese stationary that looks and smells like pastries, Coraline theories, The Witches movie with Angelica Hudson, how to become a Wiccan videos on YouTube, whimsy and magic (the superior category)

[amypihcs]

Let’s see TODAY’S LETTER, let’s see what meat they put on the fire.

Apparently the Master of the house is a damn heavy smoker. 

Expecially considering that Watson is married to lives with Sherlock ‘living chimney’ Holmes and that he himself smokes occasionally like a true chimney, that room must’ve been a health hazard. 

As we can see, Holmes knows fairly well (probably because he’s a smoker himself) the effects of nicotine on things like hunger. 

Ah, yes. How many times did you worry your Watson and that saint who is Mrs Hudson by skipping breakfast AND lunch because you were filling Baker Street with smoke, Holmes? Well, apparently this time you’re quite wrong. 

UHM... there’s something cooking here. No, not the cutlets.

Last but not least, let me remark on how much i love how BOTH Holmes and Watson comment on each other’s abilities to interact with women. Holmes remarked multiple times that Watson can make little EVERY woman fall for him and Watson in turn comments on Holmes’ gallantry thus 

Holmes can, apparently, make every woman or so trust him quite easily! He manages to trigger the housekeeper’s Holmes-adopting instincts (apparently all women more or less Mrs Hudson’s age have something of the sort) in two minutes!

[thefisherqueen]

I'm back from holiday and I'm watching Sherlock Holmes Granada's The red circle tonight. There aren't many episodes I haven't watched left. I've been putting off The three gables and The dying detective since I really didn't like those stories, and I first would like to read the novels before I watch those movies, so this marathon is nearing the end :( I have no doubt however that I will be rewatching this series from time to time.

I don't remember much of The red circle anymore. Something with a kidnapped timekeeper, hidden female lodger and a couple fleeing from some Italian crime circle?

We're starting with murder, a couple fleeing and a man breaking into their house and creepily sniffing her night gown. Really sets the mood

I love it when Watson narrates the start of the case. Feels reminescent of the stories. And Holmes working on his scrap book and acting like a petulant child when he is interrupted at his task - straight out of the canon, so good

Holmes: "If I were your lodger you would not see me for weeks on end. That does not trouble you, does it mrs. Hudson?" "Nothing troubles me when you're concerned," Haha, I love mrs. Hudson

Holmes looks so touched when the client tells him about how an earlier client praised him. *watches this part 10 times just to stare into Jeremy Brett's eyes*

Holmes' black dressing gown is gorgeous. I want one

"Watson, deduce." "Me? *chuckles*" Aww, Watson is adorable and Edward Hardwicke played him so well. I love how engaged Watson is in the Granada series. He's actually an active part of each case.

"Please vanish" Rude, Holmes! Leaving mrs. Hudson and Watson once again to do damage control

Holmes: "I helped him (his former client) find a close relative once." So much emotion and hestancy there. I'm not entirely sure why Jeremy Brett chose to act so affected? I bet he had a whole headcanon about that former case. I wish I could still ask him! It is like he's acting like Holmes didn't tell Watson everything there. Did Jeremy interpret Holmes as feeling like he failed that former client maybe?

Watson reading the newspaper to Holmes is always a joy :)

Watson against Holmes' former client: "Some are more at risk than others because of their beliefs and courage." "I do what I do, doctor. Don't make me out to be a saint" Oh this is all so intruging. Something more than just case-related is being implied but I can't lay my finger on what exactly

All the imagery with the red circles is a little overdone. Yes, yes, we get the point

The former client is murdered right while he is at work in the theater? Gods. Holmes' and Watson's reactions tear at my heart

Jeremy Brett singing and narrating when he and Watson are looking at the agony coloms is oscar worthy. I adore him

mrs. Hudson: "What is it mr. Holmes, I'm washing curtains!" Bless that woman. Can't even wash her curtains in peace :D

I have to laugh at the kidnapping scene. They literally yeeted him out of the moving couch, poor old man

Landlord: "And I don't care for foreigners!" Holmes, with disdain: "Oh really?"

They kept the insane "journeys end with lovers meeting!" quote from Holmes to Hopkins. I love it

*Holmes climbs out of the roof, scares the hell out of everyone in the house* He totally would do that, wouldn't he? Excellent addition to the canon story

Holmes is so gentle and understanding when he goes to meet the lodger, he's so soft at heart and the whole Granada team understands that so well

They really made the finale very exciting, with the villain right at the lodger's door and the chase on the roof and the rolling down the stairs! Ouch, both Holmes and the american detective got a little bloody. Luckily Watson is close at hand. Always appreciate a bit of hurt/comfort

American detective: "When you're on a trail of a lifetime, mr Holmes, you put all thoughts of personal safety out of your mind". Oh he knows. I'm not sure Holmes even knows what personal safely means

This vaillain is like a fish - he escapes everyone's grasp. Until he finally got murdered himself. I love that his wife runs out over the street to look for her husband when she sees through the window that something went wrong

"No doubt mister Holmes, if you'd be here on your own you'd have found a different solution." "The law is what we live with, inspector. Justice is sometimes harder to archieve" What a great quote.

And then the couple gets a happy ending, and they go to the opera. Jeremy Brett's expression as he listens is perfection

Granada has done it again. I didn't find the canon story that memorable, but they made it into another great episode. I really loved this one.

[skyriderwednesday]

Okay but Mrs Hudson, saint as she is, is also very not normal to put up with all of Holmes's shit. Like any reasonable landlady would have reached a breaking point the first time he spilled chemicals on the carpet. Or with him jumping all over the furniture (ahem, Brett). Or playing violin at 2 a.m. Or with him running a detective business out of the sitting room.

IMO, either he is giving her a substantial portion of his consulting fee, or her previous tenants were really bad.

[fabiansociety]

it's not enough for a detective to be clever for them to be durable; they need to have a circle of friends to make them memorable. it doesn't need to be a large circle, but you need that grounding moment of familiarity to spring the mystery from. people invest in these characters, these familiar beats, more than they do in the working out of the mystery itself. there's the same pleasure in seeing how nero wolfe's household has weathered the war years as in seeing how kamurocho has changed since the last yakuza game. how are things going with watson and mrs hudson? the continental op has the old man and dick foley; richard diamond has helen and walt and sgt otis; perry mason has paul drake and della street. the same desire to simply check in on old friends drives a lot of narrative engagement, from mysteries to superheroes to soap operas to kaiju movies. the *absence* of that sort of domestic updating is one of the things that's made it hard to really invest in these miss marple books—she spends so much of the stories offstage that she's hard to connect with as an individual, and she doesn't have that wider circle of acquaintances that feed the hunger for mere continuity. how are things in saint mary mead? we're left in the dark, beyond some dark suggestions that perhaps everyone is actually just gone, driven away or displaced or maybe just killed by world war 2. we get a flashing mention of her writer nephew and his artistic bride, but then we've barely seen them, either, in any of the earlier books. jane marple is still, two decades and four novels into her literary career, mostly a cipher, a collection of small town anecdotes wrapped in a lace shawl, rather than an actual character. the books are getting better, or at least a murder is announced wasn't so baldly mechanical as the series has been, but they still feel very much work for hire.

[whitepolaris]

Ghosts at the McLoughlin Graves

Every year, thousands of people visit the Dr. John McLoughlin House and his grave in Oregon City. People have called McLoughlin the Father of Oregon, because if it weren't for his influence, the Oregon Territory might not have become part of the United States. He did this in spite of the fact that as the chief factor (regional manager) of the British-owned Hudson's Bay Company, McLoughlin should have kept America settlers out.

Some visitors to the house have sworn that they have seen the ghosts of Dr. and Mrs. McLoughlin walking along the path that leads from their graves to the house. Inside the house, other visitors and staff have seen the disembodied shadow or outline of a tall man. One of the staff heard furniture being shifted around in the upper floor of the house. When she went upstairs to investigate, she found that all of the furniture in the master bedroom had been rearranged. According to others, on the anniversary of McLoughlin's death, September 3, a ray of sunlight shines through the parlor window onto a portrait of the doctor. When this happens, the portrait glows.

McLoughlin was a complicated man, having many values that were ahead of his time. Like many who started in the lower ranks of the Hudson's Bay Company, McLoughlin was born in Canada of French-Irish descent. Unlike many of his coworkers who were illiterate and born into the fur trade, he was educated as a physician before he joined the company. He rose through the ranks, eventually become the chief factor of Oregon Country for the company in 1824. At that time, the United states and Great Britian were negotiating for future control of the area, and McLoughlin moved his chief post from Astoria, building Fort Vancouver on the north bank of the Columbia River, opposite where the Columbia and Willamette Rivers met.

He did this to draw a line. The British would tale all the land north of the Columbia River, leaving the south of the river to the United states. Future events showed that this early move did not work. Eventually the United states gained ownership of all the land north of the Columbia to the present border of Canada. This was due in part to McLoughlin's overwhelming sense of humanity.

McLoughlin was born into a Catholic family, and, though raised as a Protestant, he eventually returned to his Catholic heritage. Like many early settlers, his wife, Marguerite, was part Native American. Unlike most frontiersmen, he was happily married and did not abandon her in favor of a white wife later in life. McLoughlin was six foot four inches tall and had prematurely gray hair. The Native American he dealt with called him Great Eagle because of his fairness and dignified bearing. McLoughlin aided many Americans pioneers after many of them nearly starved upon arriving in Oregon. He did not stop them from settling in what would become Washington, and the Hudson's Bay Company eventually forced him to retire.

McLoughlin filed a land claim and helped plan the community of Oregon City as the logical capitol for the American settlers. In 1846, he retired to Oregon City and began sponsoring local commerce like fishing, sawmills, and a store. He donated three hundred building lots to private parties, as well as a school and several different churches. He loaned money to many people and practiced medicine for free. In 1847, the pope made him a member of the Knighthood of Saint Gregory for his humanitarian acts.

Unfortunately, many of the American settlers distrusted McLoughlin because he used to work for the Hudson's Bay Company. Many people borrowed money and never repaid it; some bragged it was because he was a foreigner. Even though McLoughlin eventually became a U.S. citizen, his enemies were able to have his original land claim dissolved, because he was not a citizen when he filed the claim. Fortunately, no one tried enforcing the dissolution of McLoughlin's claim.

Despite this, McLoughlin was a leader in American society, until his death in 1857 at the age of seventy-two. He and Marguerite were buried at St. John the Apostle Catholic Church. The church was demolished and rebuilt in 1948, and their bodies were moved with it. McLoughlin's house was also moved. It stood on the lower banks of the Willamette River until 1909, when it was scheduled to be demolished. As one of the largest houses in old Oregon City, it had been used as a private residence, a boardinghouse, and possibly even a brothel. Many thought it would have been a good thing to tear it down, but the McLoughlin Memorial Association had it moved to a new location overlooking the river. They restored it and operated it as a museum for several decades. In 1970, they moved the McLoughlins' graves onto the grounds of the house. In 2003, the National Park Service took over the McLoughlin House, as part of the Fort Vancouver National Historic Site.

You can see the McLoughlins' graves (and perhaps catch a glimpse of their ghosts) by visiting the McLoughlin House at 713 Center Street, Oregon City.

[friday411]

Mrs Hudson, the Baker St martyr Was known for her generous larder She's clearly a saint A fool she sure ain't And that's how her tenants regard her

-=<+>=-

Thanks for reading, reposting & leaving the love!!

Read them all at Archive of Our Own (AO3)

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[luthieny-is-sherlocked]

My brother and I made our mom watch Sherlock with us for the first time and it's a constant:

Me:

My mom:

My brother and me:

My mum every time Mycroft appears on screen:

My mum every time Jim appears on screen:

My reaction:

My brother's reaction:

Anyway, it's being a funny experience

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What Happens After Death

Sherlock x wife!reader

Others Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sherlock comes home after faking his death and finds an extra person in his house, but they aren’t entirely unwelcome.

Warnings: Sherlock’s ���death”, fluff

WC: 1.5k

Minors DNI

The streets of London were quiet as a lone man stood outside the door to a house. The gold numbers on the black door perfectly reflecting the yellow street lamps. The 221 glared at him, inviting him to come in while saying ‘keep out’ at the same time.

Sherlock sighed, cursing his own emotions as he trudged up the creaky stairs, not bothering to remain silent in case he woke Mrs. Hudson. He slowly opened the door to his flat, and was overwhelmed by the scent of her perfume. That delectable vanilla and macadamia he had always adored in secret.

Though there was another scent mixed in, almost milky, a slightly sour scent that made him wrinkle his nose. He strained his ears, trying to listen out for her breathing, creeping further into the hall, to their bedroom. Her snores were soft, as they always had been but now, there was someone else with her, another breathing pattern that couldn’t have been hers.

His fury grew. Did she move on? Was there another man in their marriage bed? Sherlock knew this anger was dangerous but she made him weak. Made him feel things he should’ve never been able to. She was always too good to him. Too forgiving. He supposed that’s what he needed, someone to stand by him, to take care of him, someone with the patience of a fucking saint.

A part of him wanted to fling open that chipped wood, to catch her in the act of sleeping in someone else’s arms. But instead, the great Sherlock Holmes slowly opened the door, as he had done thousands of times before when he crept into bed long after his lover had fallen asleep.

And there she was, her skin almost glowing in the moonlight. Her chest, where he had spent many nights worshipping, was rising and falling with her breaths, her face serene. But where he expected to see a lover laying on the fatty tissue of her breasts, was an infant, no more than a year and some months, clutching desperately to her, fussing slightly.

Y/N moved in her sleep, as if sensing the baby’s distress, placing her hand on its small back and rubbing little circles till they settled once more.

For the first time in his life, Sherlock’s mind was blank. The child was beautiful, it had her perfect s/c skin, but everything else was him. Through the astronomical odds, it was his hair on its little head, his cheekbones poking through the baby fat, his eyebrows which were currently scrunched up as they roused from sleep once more, his lips. He couldn’t breathe. They were beautiful.

Ever so carefully, his slender fingers reached out, trembling slightly, and brushed a black curl away from their face. They squirmed, the movement threatening to wake their mother. He wrapped his hands around them and lifted, immediately bringing them to his chest, quickly smoothing down the shirt that covered their onesie. London was quite cold, especially in old buildings like his. The baby whined but surprisingly settled back to sleep.

Sherlock couldn’t move. In the span of five minutes his whole world had shifted. Something inside him snapped. He didn’t realise he was crying until he felt the wetness from his tears drip down his chin. He held them closer, the heat from their skin melting the last bits of ice in his heart.

“I thought it was some kind of cruel joke that I carried him around for nine months but he looks identical to you.” Her voice broke him from his trance. Sherlock hadn’t even noticed that the dawn had broken and the small room was slowly being lit up. His wife was leaning against their headboard, eyes still swollen from sleep.

“W-what’s his name?” His voice shook with fresh tears. “William John Y/L/N-Holmes.” He chuckled. “I always hated my first name, you know that.” She rose from the bed. “Yeah but I like it and I’m the wife so what I say goes. Now come on, we need to have a talk.” Y/N took his son from his arms and laid him back down in the middle of the covers, making sure he was snug before taking her husband’s hand and leaving.

The tea in front of the pair was steaming, perfectly made as it always was. “So are you going to tell me why you led me to believe that you’ve been dead for the past two years?” Her voice was flat but not cruel, it was never cruel when she spoke to him. “I had to, it was the only way to take down Moriarty’s web.” He offered no other explanation. “And that involved faking your own death? Breaking my heart?”

“Sherlock, all I needed was one word that you were still alive. I felt like I died that day, the only thing that kept me going was that baby in there.” “I couldn’t tell you. If you weren’t mourning, then people would’ve figured it out.” The detective argued. “I cried for days, weeks. You vowed to me that you would never make me cry. You broke that promise.”

Y/N sighed and walked around the little coffee table to her husband’s chair, taking his face in her hands. “I want to punch you so bad right now for all the pain that you have caused to not only me, but to your family. Enola was destroyed, so was John. But right now I just need to kiss you.” Big blue eyes looked up at her before she bent over and, for the first time in two years, Sherlock’s lips met hers, thick arms wrapping around her soft waist and pulling her into his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered against her lips, letting his forehead rest against hers. “I knew what I was getting into when we married, Sherlock. I just missed you so much.” “I’ll never leave you two again. I need to be here with you and William. I should’ve known you were pregnant. I don’t know why I didn’t.” “My love, you were never good with women’s issues.” She laughed and he realised how much he missed that sound.

“I wish there had been another way.” Hands tangled in his curls, she lathered kisses to his face, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re going to have a lot to make up to me my love. That includes letting me sleep while you deal with your son crying in the middle of the night.” Sherlock chuckled. “Anything you need.” “The best thing you can do now, is come to bed with me, and in the morning, well later this morning, you’ll talk to Enola and John to clear everything up.”

“Then let’s go to bed.” Just like so many times before, he scooped her into his arms, and carried her across the room, striding back to their bed.

William was just waking up, obviously displeased at being left alone. Sherlock’s blue eyes stared back up at him, fat tears beginning to brew behind them, bottom lip jutting out and trembling as he made slight whines at the sight of his parents. Y/N wiggled from her husband's arms in order to crawl back onto the bed, picking the baby up to comfort him.

“Take off your shirt.” “My love, if you wanted to have me, we should probably put William somewhere else.” He smirked, flashing those pearly whites. She huffed, like she was annoyed, but an amused smile betrayed her true thoughts. “He likes skin on skin.” Shuffling below the thick duvet, Williams' sleepwear was taken off and placed to the side as Sherlock pulled off his vest and white button-up, slipping in next to his family.

“Here we are.” Y/N turned her body so that Sherlock’s big hands lifted his son to his own chest, savouring his warmth, inhaling the baby smell that was still so prominent, his large nose burying in the boy’s soft curls as they settled. “Mama.” He murmured, little voice breaking the serenity of the morning. Y/N put one hand on their son’s back, stroking his soft skin while propping herself up on the other. William’s eyes shut and his breaths turned into little snores.

“Thank you.” The detective whispered. “What for love?” “For staying. For him. I never deserved this much kindness. You had every right to leave but you didn’t.” “Love makes people do crazy things, Sherl. And through all of this, I love you, more than anything.”

“I love you too.” A strong arm wrapped around her so Y/N could lay on his chest, right next to William. And right then, the world was at peace with everything Sherlock loved wrapped up safely in his arms, away from the horrors of his life. “I love you too.” He whispered once more into the morning light, falling into a restful sleep, his mind calm.

This was a better homecoming than he could have ever imagined.

Taglist

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

[dorianslayyy]

Ok but imagine if Sherlock S5 hypothetically did happen. But without Una (rest in peace, she was a saint) what would happen?

Imagine episode one, when it opens we see some Rosie, some deleted scenes with Mrs Hudson and the boys; everythings warm and wholesome, the atmospheres much what we're used to. Comedic, warm, and just kinda yellow

[Intro here]

It just cuts drastically to a funeral setting. The atmosphere is grey; maybe it's even doing the cliche pouring rain motif; the transition is loud traffic; everyone's silent other than maybe a priest/minister

221B is never the same again. It seems quieter, and more real but at the same time surreal. The next few scenes at the flat always begin in a grieving silence just to emphasise the emptiness brought by the loss of our favourite landlady

Actually, don't picture that 😭

[dyns33]

Virtuous

So maybe last Sherlock story, I’m out of ideas for now, and happy that it’s out of my system, but I had fun writing it ! 

I lke insecure idiots in love

      Sometimes London was terribly quiet for several days. No crime, no mystery, no problem. It was a great relief for the police, and a real nightmare for Sherlock Holmes, whose brain needed daily occupation to keep it from rotting.

Before his marriage, when these kinds of mishaps happened, he would go to the dark streets of the city to participate in clandestine fights, or he would buy cocaine. At the worst times he used opium. It was all behind him now, because he didn't want to worry his dear wife, Y/N.

He still had the experiences left. All fields were then open to him, especially science, his desk being always covered with books, vials, strange products. Always concerned about his health, Y/N passed by to tidy up when he wasn't looking, opening the window to ventilate and making sure he was safe. It was truly lovely.

Sherlock's last experiment was now over, the few clients who had come to see him had no interesting case for him, and the detective was starting to get bored. He had to find something, quickly, before he lost his mind.

It was at this point that Y/N walked past him, with his coat, to take it to Mrs. Hudson and ask her to wash it. It had been a while since the coat needed it, she asked her husband to take care of it many times, but it still had not been done, and so his wife had given in. She would very often give in to Sherlock's whims and infantile attitude. It gave him an idea.

He had already thought about it, because he had given this test to everyone he had met. A test of patience. Mycroft was the one who always got angry first, over trivial things. Enola didn't like that he spoke badly about women, even though she guessed what his purpose was. Their smarter mother hid her annoyance behind a smile, but he knew she hated that he put her books in the wrong place.

His family, Scotland Yard detective, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, his comrades when he was still in school, everyone had taken this test. So it was Y/N's turn.

Sherlock started with little things, leaving his things lying around the apartment, not answering when she talked to him, smoking in the living room, having ridiculous requests, but each time his wife remained calm, dignified, acting like the perfect wife she was.

The next step was to upset her, with remarks or criticisms. It was more delicate, because Sherlock didn't want to hurt her, and added to that he had nothing to reproach to Y/N. So he would comment on her outfits, he would notice when she said something wrong, he would sigh if she wasn't going fast enough. But instead of slapping him like he deserved, his wife apologized before trying to correct her behaviour.

A normal husband would then have thought that he had married a saint, that he could be very happy about it, and that there was no need to continue this stupid experience. But Sherlock was anything but normal. He needed to know what was going to piss off Y/N, to know her limits, so as not to cross them inadvertently. He was obviously taking a big risk, as she could get very angry with this test, even more so if she found out it was a test, but not knowing seemed even worse for the man. Sherlock needed to know everything.

           "My sweet, it's been a while since we last had lunch together, away from the house." he said while he was getting dress. "My brother suggested a very nice restaurant to me, we could have lunch there."

           "Oh, Sherlock, I'd love to !"

           "Unfortunately I have to take care of a case this morning, but you will just have to wait for me in front, I will meet you there at noon, then we can walk in the park."

The proposal delighted Y/N, and then Sherlock knew she could only scold him when he didn't show up. He even decided to worsen the situation by not returning during the night either, without preparing the slightest excuse.

He knew he had "won" when he arrived in the living room the next day. The fire was not lit, his cup of tea and his newspaper were not prepared on the table, his desk had not been put away. What a victory indeed… Sherlock suddenly felt a little foolish, hoping that she wasn't gone forever, that she had just taken refuge with friends, but that she would come back soon for an explanation. They would definitely argue, then she would forgive him, because she loved him, and he would never do it again. But... what if she didn't come back ?

A cough sounded from their bedroom then, and Sherlock rushed forward, finding Y/N in their bed. Asleep, she didn't react when he called her, nor when he panicked when he felt the warmth on her forehead. She was hot, her breathing was difficult, her perspiration was excessive. A bad fever, or worse.

           "Mrs. Hudson !" he cried, while taking another blanket from the closet to cover her. "Call a doctor, now !"

Her condition was a little worrying, but the doctor tried to remain optimistic, saying that she needed rest and warmth. If she was lucky, it was just a flu that would pass very quickly. Sherlock, not believing in luck, stayed with her day and night, even when Detective Lestrade finally brought him a worthy investigation.

His poor Y/N had horrible nightmares, she kept crying, calling for him, clinging to him but not waking up to see that he was there, hugging her and whispering reassuring words. Sherlock couldn't leave her.

           "No, please don't give up on me…" she sobbed against his shoulder.

           "Never my love. You are more precious than anything."

           "I'll be nice. I'll do whatever you want..."

           "You are already perfect, my dear. Calm down."

           "Miss Harrison... I did what Miss Harrison said, so... No, Sherlock, I can do better !"

His little sister had quickly told him about that miserable school for young girls Mycroft had made her go to. Y/N had been there too, like all the fine ladies in the country. The teaching was as pointless as it was archaic. Luckily Y/N had been smart enough not to always listen, learning about the world, reading all the books, cultivating her personality, which made her the most admirable and lovable woman in Sherlock's eyes.

However, there were sentences that had disturbed her. Miss Harrison had certainly told her girls what not to do if they didn't want their husbands to hate them. That men would insult them, hit them, or even leave them if they didn't do as they said. Good wives were obedient, they stayed in their place and never complained. This was how Y/N acted with Sherlock then.

She already found herself too dumb compare to the great detective, afraid that one day he would be terribly bored with her, so she couldn't afford not to do everything to please him, even when he behaved like this a child. Sherlock had been blind, and he waited until she finally woke up to get the ridiculous idea out of her head.

           "Sherl... Sherlock ?" she said with some difficulty when the fever subsided a little and she opened her eyes.

           "I'm here. I'll always be here. Forgive me, I acted like a fool, a mediocre husband. You have every right to say no to me, to disagree, to get upset if I behaves badly."

           "I don't mind… most of the time. I know you're different. I know you'll take my remarks, but you've got a lot of work to do, so I don't want to stop you from thinking because of some trivialities."

           "Nothing is futile when it comes from you." he said kissing her on the forehead. "I need to know when I'm hurting you, or when you don't approve of something. I... I don't always see it, if you don't tell me. Or too late. The few friends I thought I had ran away from me, calling me a freak, because I couldn't spot their limits. I always test people's patience, even without doing it on purpose. And often I don't care, because I don't know them, I'll never see them again, they don't matter to me. But the ones I love, I… I don't want to lose them. I don't want to lose you. I shouldn't have made that experience."

Y/N stared at him for a long time without saying anything, probably to be sure it wasn't the fever that was playing a trick on her. Bad point, her dear husband had purposely been obnoxious to her, not coming to join her as planned, while it was raining. He certainly hadn't even noticed the rain, nor thought that she would wait for him for several hours like a devoted wife, convinced that he would eventually arrive as promised. Good point, he loved her. He didn't want her to go, as she didn't want him to go. They were just two idiots.

She sighed, before smiling and kissing him tenderly. Then she gently patted his cheek.

           "My darling, I'm quite upset that I waited hours in the rain and  the cold for you to join me, when you had planned from the start not to come."

           "You... You mean it's my fault if you... Oh, my god..."

           "I'm not done, so don't talk. I forgive you this time, because I know you're deeply sorry, but I still want you to take care of me like a queen for at least one week. And no case during that time !"

           "Your wish is my command."

Sherlock obeyed, although he then missed several exciting crimes which were solved by Enola, who came to brag and taunt him to punish him for what he had done to his wife. He continued to act as a true gentleman all the same, outside of the investigations of course, but always being respectful towards Y/N, thanking her whenever she took care of him, even if it was only with a growl, not looking at her as he analyzed clues. She knew how to be satisfied with it, her qualities compensating for the faults of her beloved husband.