#the Dogs in sherlocks mind palace

[mora-sprite]

Get out he needs to go to his mind palace

[mirrorsmp3]

i miss patches can ex dtblr's first bonding mission be kidnapping her back we can all split weekends or smth

im not going near my mind palace of the dransion.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Wait what happened with Sherlock. Turning his best friend into a dog?

Oooh boy. Okay strap in.

I dunno how far into the show you got if any but let me try and sum it up.

In the third series, Sherlock got shot and to calm himself down so as not to go into shock he remembered "Redbeard"; a red setter dog he had as a kid. In his "mind palace" we see young Sherlock beckoning him, petting him, letting him lick his face (it's important to keep this in mind, trust me).

Cut to the end of the next series, we find out about Sherlock's crazy sister who has never been mentioned in the show before and the writers pulled right out of their ass. Sherlock's brother explains to John that their sister killed "Redbeard the dog" when they were little kids and it traumatised Sherlock so much and the sister, Euros, tried to burn down their house before the older brother had his parents and Sherlock believe she died before locking her away in a prison on an island where she spent the next thirty years brainwashing the guards to serve her but never leaving? Idk it was so dumb.

Anyhoot! Euros taunts Sherlock with memories about Redbeard like the food bowl with his name on. Watson gets thrown down a well, presumably the same one Redbeard was drowned in and he finds the bones and tells Sherlock they're not dog bones, they're child bones- which causes Sherlock to remember that Redbeard was actually the name his childhood friend Victor Trevor used when they played pirates as kids. Euros was jealous and wasn't evil really, she just wanted her brother to play with her! So she left the kid to starve in the well. And Sherlock turned him into a dog in his memories to cope. What happened to Victor's parents? What happened to the search that would have gone and been remembered about this missing kid? Why did this little boy eat out of a doggy bowl? Who the fork knows!

Then Sherlock hugged his sister which was apparently all she needed and she's good now. Hooray or something!

[calaisreno]

Lost and Found

Prompt: Redecorating

The sofa has reached the end of its natural life. 

Sherlock has resisted replacing it, despite the cushions leaking some substance that makes him sneeze and several springs poking into his back when he’s trying to find his Mind Palace. 

“Do you have one in there?” John asks. 

Sherlock is baffled, then narrows his eyes. “Do I have a sofa in my Mind Palace?”

John shrugs and gives him a cheeky grin. “Well, I’ve never visited, so I wouldn’t know. For all I know, it’s more posh than the King’s digs.”

“I don’t want a new sofa,” Sherlock gripes. “I want the old one fixed.”

“Nobody does that kind of work anymore,” John explains. Again. This conversation seems to be running on a loop. “It’s too far gone. In any case, we’ll need to carry it out back to the skip.”

Sherlock sits in his chair, pulling his knees up to his chin. He needs to sulk for a few minutes before he’ll help.

“I’ll take the cushions down first,” John says, ignoring the sulk. “We’ll wrangle the frame down after.” 

Removing one of the cushions, he tosses it aside. It’s Sherlock’s favourite cushion, the one where John’s bum always rests on movie nights, with Sherlock’s head in his lap. 

It’s hard to watch, like seeing an old friend taken apart. Well, Sherlock doesn’t have friends, only one, who is currently disassembling his favourite sofa as if it were merely furniture.

“Hey, I found money!” John holds up a coin. It’s an old one-pound coin with Queen Elizabeth’s profile. He pockets it.

“That might be mine,” Sherlock says. 

John smirks. “You never have money in your pockets. Not even a penny. Oh, here’s a penny!” 

He tosses it at Sherlock, who catches it. It’s brown, with a man’s profile. “Who is this?”

“Probably George VI.” John comes over and studies it. “1949. Might be worth a pound.”

Sherlock tucks the coin in his pocket and listens to John muttering as he runs a hand into the framework.

“I wonder how old this sofa is. What’s this? An old sock.”

“I am not currently missing any socks from my index,” Sherlock says. “It must be yours.”

“Mine, then. The dryer eats them. Not sure how it ended up here.”

“It’s a wormhole. Sofas are full of things no one can identify. Artefacts from other dimensions.”

“Hm, I think you’re right. Remember when we got the new microwave, after you blew up the last one with that experiment? We didn’t get the smell out for weeks. And we promptly lost the manual for the new one. Here is it.” He tosses it on the table.

Sherlock sits up, pointing at the next item John’s fished out of the depths. “What’s that?”

“A key. No idea what door it’s for.”

Sherlock comes over, takes it out of his hand. “I think it’s the key to my old flat. I couldn’t find it when I terminated my lease, and they said it didn’t matter, they’d be changing the locks anyway.” He sits on the floor, turning it over in his fingers.

John sits on the remaining cushion. “Where did you live before here?”

“Montague Street. Dreadful flat.”

“You never saw where I was living before, did you?”

“I did.” His face flushes. 

“How did you— oh, God, you picked the lock, didn’t you? While you were off looking for pink suitcases, you broke into my bedsit.”

“Evidence, John. If one is going to share rooms with a person, it’s best to know all you can.”

“And what did my room tell you?”

“That you needed to live with me.” He smiles. “Is that the remote for the telly?”

John giggles. “I hid it last week when you were getting ready to watch that documentary about the serial killers again.”

“I was bored! If I can’t have a serial killer of my own, I might be permitted to vicariously enjoy some.”

“You’re mad, you know. Here’s a note: Do not bin the eyeballs.”

“That’s your doing, John Watson. You binned them and said you never got my note. The evidence is in your hand.”

“Hm. Maybe. Wait— what are my dog tags doing here?”

“I may have… borrowed them. When you went to Edinburgh for that pointless conference.”

“That was a year ago. You borrowed them?”

“I missed you. I couldn’t sleep without you, so I slept out here, on the sofa.”

John leans towards him, kisses his forehead. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”

“So you often remind me.”

John kisses him again, this time on the lips. “There’s a lot of history in this old sofa.”

“There is. But I think I will adjust to the new one.”

“Will you?”

Sherlock smiles and points. “Oh, look! What’s that?”

“What? I don’t see anything else.”

Sherlock kisses him. “It’s my heart. Lost it the day you moved in.”

814 words, Flash Fiction

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon @inevitably-johnlocked @discordantwords

Thank you for reading/reblogging!

[londonlock]

that hlv scene in sherlock’s mind palace after being shot. when redbeard comes running towards him. (omg im tearing up.) i really want to keep that image as a dog. not as an altered memory. as a dog that he had as a child. im going to remember that scene as his dog goddammit. to hell with his father’s allergy. to hell with victor trevor and eurus. that was his dog :( and he loved his dog :( thas just my viewpoint, to hell if it isn’t strictly canon

[erik-the-creator-mainblog]

I've been playing through all the Frogwares Sherlock Holmes games, and I'm loving it!!!

I started with Chapter One, then The Awakened (2023). Loved every second of them omg. The level of detail on the cases and the clues were incredible. I got stuck very frequently, but that was probably user error for the most part. Walkthroughs helped me get unstuck.

Now I'm playing through all the other games in reverse order. Going from newest to oldest. It's really interesting seeing the game mechanics that become a bit less polished, and disappear. I get to see in a very neat way how the games evolved over time. The Mind Palace for example, is the easiest to navigate in the latest two games. The way it was displayed was a bit different in The Devil's Daughter and Crimes and Punishments. Once I got used to it, I was fine.

I'm at The Testament of Sherlock Holmes now, and the Mind Palace is now a Deduction Board. Same game function, but more rudimentary. In story, it's Watson's notepad.

Another neat thing is the different versions of Holmes and Watson! I love all of them dearly. Chapter One and The Awakened are the same canon. Devil's Daughter is all on its own. I haven't gotten there yet, but it seems that Crimes and Punishments and all the games before them are in the same canon as each other. Testament of Sherlock Holmes references The Awakened (2008), Jack the Ripper, and I think The Hound of Baskervilles as well. It's fun to see references to games I haven't played yet. I'm really looking forward to it.

And a neat thing! 221B Baker Street seems to have the exact same layout in all of the games! It's decorated a bit differently, but the room placements, bookshelves, ect are in the same places!

And looking back, it's neat to see where certain game mechanics came from. I first got to play as Toby the hound dog once in either Devil's Daughter or Crimes and punishments. I forget which. During that playthrough, I was a bit sad to find there was only one time that I got to do that. I was suprised to see in Testament of Sherlock Holmes that I got to play as him multiple times!

And in The Devil's Daughter, you can explore a bit outside your apartment. There's mini games like arm wrestling, boxing, darts, but they don't play a part in the main plot. They were carried over from an earlier game.

It's just really fun! The stories are so interesting thus far. The friendship is wonderful to see in every variation. And it feels great when I complete a puzzle on my own, even if it sometimes takes a while. Highly recommend!

[jellieland]

Ok, so I haven't really done this before, but with the level and quality and effort put into this thing I would very much like to give it a proper read through. So.

Hotguyzine liveblog under the cut, starting with:

The Most Epic and Heartwrenching and Harrowing Battle of the Turn of the Century

I mean, literally from the first page this is all just so incredibly well presented. It looks so good.

And it's Joel and Lizzie with cat ears. I love it already.

"You can be average guy. Mediocre guy." Mean to him. Probably warranted! But also. Mean to him.

Wait, are Joel and Lizzie just known as Guy and Gal? That's great.

"I'M GAL!"

("and i'm. guy.")

I love them.

Oh, Scar is SUCH a reliable narrator. For sure.

"Give me all your cats[h!]" Sooo reliable. Also is that Gem with the animal control van or just someone with red hair?

Right. Right yeah of course he has a camera crew. Why wouldn't he?

I love watching Scar and Lizzie talk about their OCs together.

Wait. Is being an unreliable narrator literally his superpower? Is this is a representation of post-production editorialising, or literally what's happening? Because those have quite different implications.

HUH.

"Knocked both of the dangerous villains to ground in one hit!" What do you mean BOTH Scar, you just erased Joel from the narrative.

Ok! This is quite alarming!!

"With great hotness comes greater guy?" I'm going to choose to ignore everything else that's happening and say yes, you should definitely go with this one, Scar, for sure.

---

Meet Cute

Now first of all, I see that pun in the title. I see it, and I appreciate it!

"I should've figured it was you." I really love the visual representation of the phrase "dripping with malice", there. I also love the Cuteguy design!

"That was kinda rude" Ok that. That's way less extreme than I was expecting from the initial reaction.

"Anyway byeeeee!!!" Oh so they're BOTH annoying weirdos. Perfect.

---

King for a Day

Oh hello Bdubs. This should be fun.

Ren: "You're

Hotguy?"

Bdubs: "How did you do that with your mouth."

"Yeah. What if." Oh Bdubs is TIRED tired huh.

I love how Ren is just immediately fully on board. Like. Yeah he would be like that wouldn't he. He's so enthusiastic it's great.

I-85 box??? Iskall crumbs???? Ooh, and Cub! And... maybe Doc?

Hey there Grian. Have some flowers (and also some dangerous paperwork but don't worry about that part)!

"I'm not joining your little king's court." Oooh, I see. I see. Hey, at least he kept the flowers, right, Scar?

Getting Pearl to publish a hit piece immediately is maybe a little extreme, but fair enough I guess!

"They're gonna throw TOMATOES at me in the town square, man!" Don't worry, Ren. In another life, they already did.

---

Mumblr. Incredible.

Shoutout to teeth dog. My new favourite superhero.

Oh no. The discourse. The discourse. It's too real.

Maple Prince. Etho is a cryptid. Amazing.

"so if heroes are showing crafted personas to the public, don’t you think hotguy and cuteguy having matching names and outfits at least verges on queerbaiting?" I don't. Really have anything to say about this. But I feel like I have to include something that dealt me this amount of psychic damage in the liveblog.

---

G-Team

"I'm off to visibily protect the public." Yeah, that sounds about right.

Oh, the gala was hosted by Doc! And he even made sure to specify that there were DEFINITELY NO ulterior motives! Well I don't see how anything could possibly have gone wrong then!

"wearing his lab coat to a gala?? sus af." No I think that's just Cub, Grian. Although to be fair, "sus af" is maybe his default state now that I think about it.

Ah, it's Sherlock Grian! I love it.

Oh is this conversation taking place in Grian's mind palace? That's great.

Eyy, Permit Manager Grian coming in with all his considerable power, that being opaque bureaucratic processes and hold music! It seems pretty effective.

This is such a good chase scene. The broken heart symbol on the jacket is interesting!

And there's some sculk leaking into the drain. That seems. Fine. That definitely won't come back later to cause problems, I'm sure.

---

The Case of the Missing Cub

Oh, I'm sure this isn't going to be related to the sculk at all. There's definitely nothing on the very first page that would suggest otherwise. (I'm very excited about this one, I always love sculk related stories.)

The sculk snail is actually so cute, I love it.

Uh oh, there's Cub! And he looks like he's maybe having a bad time.

Oh dear, and Grian immediately gets sculked. That's slightly concerning.

"This fight fucking sucks." You know what, that's fair, Grian.

Yay, mutually agreed upon arson! And they both looks so happy about it!

Grian. GRIAN. WHY.

The realistic notes app t-shirt with Scar's actual minecraft face, followed by the deadpan "I want this." It's perfect. It's incredible. It's definitely how Cub would react to being shown that image upon waking up in front his burning house after being possessed. It literally made me laugh out loud.

"Oh, that reminds me. Why is my house on fire?" How. How did that remind you of your house being on fire.

"I used it to season my pizza." ...Yeah. Yeah that sounds about right.

I loved this one a lot. All of the stories have been great, but I especially enjoyed this.

---

Hotguy! Has One New Mail

Oh we get the one sided Bdubs and Cub rivalry from season 7! Excellent!

All the character voices are just so perfect. Bdubs' "Founding Principles" followed by Cub's "Yeah man cool this all sounds great" are just so perfectly in character for both of them.

I want some of Cub's cool space facts, and honestly if I emailed a celebrity/superhero and they sent me a link to cool space facts in return, I would be ecstatic.

Scar sold Doc a none existent bridge. Amazing. Sorry, Beef's proxy, but the list of things you're saying Scar shouldn't have been doing certainly isn't going to convince Cub, of all people, that anything needs to change.

"why have you sent me a list of top supernovas!" WOW, Grian, ungrateful much? Enjoy your supernovas.

"he is rescuing kittens from tragically falling into rivers, an activity that has fully occupied him for the past eighteen months." To be fair I feel like if Scar could do this, he would.

"everything is completely under control" Yeah, Special Officer #49, everything I've seen about this city so far really suggests that you've got it all under control. For sure.

"Hotguy is currently in Canada fighting smallpox by shooting individual bacteria with a special crossbow, for which he has received a commendation from their Prime Minister." I love Cub's excuses for Hotguy, they're all great. Also love how Pearl's main problem with this one is apparently the lack of smallpox in Canada, when obviously the actual main problem is that Scar is banned for Canada.

"casting_directors_bdubs_is_not_feuding_with" Well I'm glad there's at least one. And of course Scar's recording a snack commercial while all this is going on.

NOOO, GRIAN'S PIZZA! This is so sad.

---

The 30 part thread by Doc is amazing. As are Bdubs' ill-advised replies.

Ooh, a good old classic Doc disproportionate twitter threat! Always love those!

Carol the zombie mention! AND she's a movie star! Let go!!

Jellie... I love her the picture is perfect. She deserves that quarter of a million likes and more.

---

Ok, this is 100 pages into the zine and has got fairly long, so I'll probably continue this in another post!

[imeternallylove]

Lost in Aquamarine - S.Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Location: Alhambra of Granada, Spain. Bath of Somerset, England.

Warning: none

Word: approx 3,300

main mastetlist | theme song | inspired | request & ask | prompts

(new) for tagged go here and insert your tumblr acc

Chapters index

Glitches in Alhambra (you are reading this) | Alta infidelidad | Labyrinth

You prayed your eyes were just playing tricks on you. That you'd blink multiple times and your splendid diamond ring would be back on your ring finger. That you hadn't misplaced it in the middle of Granada, because obviously you hadn't.

You groaned aloud, followed by a barrage of profanity. You frantically went searching through your rucksack, your blood dropping further and lower into your stomach as your fingers discovered only meaningless items. 

"No, no, no! It can't be happening to me," you grumbled.

You were at the end of your voyage at Alhambra. It had been a full week since you took place, beginning with Nasrid Palaces and on to Moorish palaces, the Generalife, and the Catedral de Granada before arriving at Mirador de San Nicolás. Your flight home was the next day.

You closed your eyes as you imagined your fiancé, Joe, getting down on one knee and describing over the stunning ring. "It's a family heirloom, babe. It has been passed down through the family for generations. And it's now yours!" He'd said. For freaking hell sake's How were you going to go back to him and tell him you'd somehow misplaced his treasured family ring? His people would burst out screaming.

Joe had been confused at your decision to on the trip alone without him anyway. But you’d convinced him to let you go, saying it was a part of your bucket list, travelling in Europe by yourself.

Truthfully, you’d just wanted this last breath of freedom. In a few months, you were going to be married, and then Jack would be a part of every corner of your life. For some reason, you found yourself dreading the prospect. You felt guilty as hell for it, but you couldn’t help it. 

Joe seemed perplexed by your decision to head on the trip without him. But you'd convinced him to let you go, claiming that travelling alone in Alhambra was on your bucket list.

To be honest, all you wanted was one final breath of freedom. You were getting married in a matter of weeks, and Joe would be in all facets of your life. You had been dreading this possibility for some reason. You felt terrible about it, yet you couldn't stop yourself.

You nearly said no when he proposed. It felt like it came too quickly. You weren't sure yet if you desired to spend the rest of your life with him. You hadn't planned for it and weren't prepared for such a drastic undergoing change.  Because you weren't even sure if you loved him.

In light of your family, you'd only recently begun dating. His parents knew your parents, and the two of you were neighbours, as well as friends. But you'd never seen him in a romantic sense before. Until his mother told you one day that he adored you.

You accepted to go on a date with him since you were concerned about what your parents would think if you turned him down. Just a single date.

However, that one date turned into over a year and a half of a relationship. You assumed you'd break up at some point. But then he proposed in front of both of your families.

And you hadn't had the heart to say no to his puppy dog eyes and gorgeous ring he was propped up for you.

The ring, ah, the ring. You made yourself ponder.  When was the last time you saw it? You wracked your brain, revisiting the last several days in your mind. Because as an elderly lady cooed at it, you'd undoubtedly had it on your finger in Palace Of Charles V. But you'd carefully placed it in your bag at the Royal Alhambra Palace, hadn't you? You'd gone swimming in the hotel pool and had taken it off to keep it safe.

That's all right. You swore once more.

"What, you don't like picturesque?" a voice from behind you whispered. “¿No te gusta este lugar, señora?”

You turned to see a man beaming at you. Sherlock, whatever Holmes? Your tour guide.

He had been your tour guide since you checked out of the hotel, so you'd been seeing him all the time for the previous two days. Everyone else on the trip with you loved him right away, and you could see why. He was young, humorous, and engaging to talk to, a big cry from the middle-aged men who had served as your guides in the past countries.

Sherlock was also, to put it lightly, talking to you. He walked around with his hair streaked dark brown and styled into a curly, brushing the base of his neck. It would have looked completely ludicrous on anyone else. But he made it work, and it enhanced his appeal.

Not that you hadn't observed a thing about his appearance, especially the way he had attractive eyes.

You frowned as you cleared your throat. “Picturesque?”

"We've arrived at the breathtaking square on a hilltop... At the very least, you could try to appear enthusiastic with happy so that I feel somewhat better about my job," he remarked, resting back on his heels and beaming again.

You became aware of the actuality of the oasis of tranquillity, with forests on the hilltop all around you. He was absolutely correct.

"It's not that," you replied flatly. "I-I've lost my ring." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at you. “What kind of ring?”

"It is my engagement ring. I had it on my finger until lately, and now I can't find it. It was meant to be in my bag. But it isn't," you said helplessly.

"Oh- Oh hell," Sherlock exclaimed. Then he squeezed his lips together, realising what he was saying, realizing his language.

"I'm sure your fiancé will understand..." He said. You made a shaky motion with your head, saying no. "It's a family heirloom. He'll be so upset," you whispered, biting your lower lip.

"Let me tell you something. When you return, thoroughly search your hotel room. If you don't mind missing the rest of the trip, I can arrange for a car to drive you right now," he said, massaging the back of his neck.

You slowly nodded. "But what happens if I don't find it?"

"Well, in that case, you should contact the company." And write an email with a detailed description of the ring. We'll have it mailed to you if somebody finds it."

You stroked your temples, attempting to take it easy.  The one here of action did not feel appropriate.  You despised being without any control over anything. How were you expected to just leave and either wait for the ring to be sent to you or never be located at all?

"It could be anyplace. I think it's in Generalife," you said, trying hard to keep your voice steady."I can't just back to Bath without it."

Sherlock let out a sigh. “Miss—”

"Y/N," you exclaimed.

“Hey, Y/N. Look, I'll cover the cost of the change in plans. All you need is a car and a driver to get you back to the hotel, right? So you can retrace the ring steps. It's only a few of hours away." He locked his gaze on you. "On the other hand it'll be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Who's to say someone hasn't already picked it up for themselves? Miss; firstly, I believe you should explain to your fiancé. He'll have to accept it."

You were well aware that you were sounding stupid like he trying to say. You knew there was no way you'd be able to find it someplace in here. But something inside you told you that you had to try.

Sherlock softened when he saw your expression then rise his phone. "All right, fine. I'm going to phone the corporation. We'll arrange for someone to drive you anywhere you need to go."

You sighed in relief. "Thank you."

You were sitting on a bench outside the museum, waiting for the car that was supposed to pick you up. This extra trip extension was going to cost you the entire next month's pay. But you didn't have a choice. It was either that or look at Joe's dejected expression and confront your shame.

You raised your head as Sherlock approached, phone in hand. "Our man is on his way. Are you positive about this?"

You simply nodded. "All I can do is hope for the best, Sherlock, right? Thank you for your time. You must return to the others. They're most likely waiting."

Sherlock cast a glance towards the museum. "Yeah, miss. Be careful."

You tried to smile. "I will."

When you returned to the hotel, you searched every room, from the bathroom to the bed to the dresser. The ring was nowhere to be found.

You went on to reschedule your travel back home, dreading having to explain to Joe why you made it home a few days late.

And then you packed up your luggage and headed down to the lobby, scanning to see where your driver had disappeared to.

Then you collected your belongings and made your way down to the lobby, checking the area for your driver.

"He was just here," you muttered quietly, craning your neck to see if you could spot him.

You were taken aback when you instead locked eyes with someone sporting a brown curly-streaked hair. 

You locked your gaze on him as he approached. "What on earth are you doing in here?"

Sherlock grinned. "I've come to lend a hand a damsel in trouble." You lowered your head. "What exactly are you—" You began, but he cut you off.

"Look, your plan is insane. And you aren't going to able to find it on your own. You needed help. And, fortunately for you, I am exactly that."

You staring at him. "But why do you want to help me?"

He shook his head, shrugged. "I've always had a soft spot for those in need... It's a necessary portion of my line of work. Plus, it'll be a wonderful change from my mundane day-to-day professional existence!"

"I'll be fine alone," you protested. "Besides, don't you have to, like, work?"

"Oh, I talked with the company. This will be a part of it. In fact, I'll be paid extra," he replied, his eyes gleaming. "Just admit you need my help, miss."

You were too stunned to respond. That's why, not long after, you were seated in the car, Sherlock stepping into the driver's seat and banging the door locked.

You could hardly believe what was happening. 

You couldn't believe what was going on.

Your tour guide? Your assistant? He smirked and took out a pair of garishly yellow-tinted sunglasses. He turned on the stereo, which was playing something slightly recognisable as British popular music. 

"Bon voyage!"

A few hours later, you arrived in Generalife. The sun had started to set, casting an orange glow across the sky. 

You felt Sherlock glance your way. “Do you want to start searching tomorrow? It’s getting late.”

“I guess,” you said. “Are we going back to the hotel I stayed at?”

He nodded, and the car soon came to a stop in front of the nearby hotel.

"We obviously couldn't book the room you stayed in, but we'll ask the staff to help us look for the ring tomorrow, if you don't mind."

Sherlock was in the room across from yours. You felt a sense of shame when you observed his gaze falling. He'd had to travel quite far. But he maintained that cheerful expression, assuring you that he'd be great after a full night's sleep.

You thought it was time to tell Joe as soon as you entered into your new room.

And, as you can imagine, your plans didn't go quite as planned.  His heated voice on the other end of the phone made you cringe. "Don't be ridiculous, Y/N. And just head home. My family will get it about the ring."

"But I don't want this to be something I'm taunted about for the rest of our lives," you replied gently. "This is entirely my fault. And I'm working on it. So, contrary as that sounds, let me?"

Joe let out a sigh. "A week. If you haven't found it after a week, you're going home. I'm not keen about the ring. I only want you to be safe with me. I'm still confused as to why you went on this silly trip by yourself. You need my help, sweetie. Consider what happened because you were alone—"

You stopped him. "Well, I sorry. I promise to come back in a week."

You hurriedly hung up the phone, furious. Why did he have to be so condescending all the time? He seemed to believe you couldn't handle anything on your own.

Sure you’d lost the stupid ring. But now, you decided, you were going to make sure to find it to prove a point to him, to show him you weren’t as childish and irresponsible as he thought you were.

The next day, Sherlock was upbeat, seemingly unbothered by the long day ahead. Despite the fact that you stopped by places you'd already visited, you felt his passion reflect off on you somewhat. 

However, thanks to the kind hotel workers, you ended yourself searching for your previous hotel room first. He joined by searching under the bed and in the cupboard. Staff members advised you that they had not discovered anything after cleaning it, since if they had, they would have contacted you immediately.

Then you searched the pool area, praying you would spot the glimmer of diamond, but to avail.

Then you checked the pool area, hoping to catch a glint of diamond, but to no avail.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Sherlock pointed out your depressed appearance. "We have the entire city to ourselves. Are your spirits high?"

You attempted to share a tiny smile. "Ok. Let's get started."

The first visit was the Hall Of The Abencerrajes, but there was nothing there but the same paintings you'd seen before. Of course, this time he was spewing a steady stream of information while also laughing about the view.

After that, you went to the gardens court and blessed your lucky stars that Sherlock kept his mouth shut and remained respectful during the tour. You checked the area as well as you could, but the ring was nowhere to be seen.

You went from one tourist attraction to the next, yet all of your efforts were in vain.However Sherlock remained positive for the rest of the day, talking incessantly and showing all sorts of stuff. 

Finally, the sun began to set again, and your feet felt sore from all the walking. But, weirdly, you weren't exhausted.

That's how you ended up having dinner with Sherlock in a restaurant overlooking the waterway. 

You breathed deeply, flipping your meal: Breua de Pollo, a crisp pastry bundle filled with pulled chicken infused with saffron and cinnamon, sweet raisins, and sprinkled with icing sugar. Your gaze was drawn to the lake. "Would you like to go to the Moorish palace tomorrow?" He was beaming. "That's chicken is too good, stop making that face, you need to eat."

You felt taken aback by what he was saying. "Moorish palace?"

"Wasn't that where we went before we came here? Might as well check to see if the ring is still there," he claimed. 

"All right," you found yourself responding. Something in you was excited by the potential.

"We can just take the flight if you want," Sherlock remarked, his voice bursting with excitement. Huh. "We'll get there much quicker than if we take the train."

You reacted with a hum. "I can't believe I'm going on a second trip of Granada. What has become of my life?" 

"Hey, do you know how many people would kill to be you right now?" Sherlock protested. "Plus, you've got the best tour guide in Spain with you. What's not to love about this situation?"

You laughed. "Well, I suppose I should make the most of this extra week off."

He smirked, his charming cheekbone lifting up, why is this man so perfect? That's a lot more like it."

You spent a fantastic evening with him, joking literally never-ending, telling him about your life and he told you about his.

"I never imagined myself as a tour guide," Sherlock stated while you were chewing. "I dreamed to be an artist. But life has a funny way of crushing dreams, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," you admitted quietly. "Sometimes it seems as if life controls me instead of the other way around." He gave you a knowing look. "Why do I get a sense that you're engaged in your marriage?"

"I do like Joe." The breeze is blowing around, causing your hair a little messed up, but it is pushing you to express something further from your side. "I'm just not sure he's the one I want to get married to," you admitted delicately stunned by the words you were using.  Hearing the inner notion that had afflicted you for months come out unnerved you. 

"Was he upset about the ring?"

“No. He even told me he didn't care and that I should just head back. But I know him. If not now, he'll make fun of me for it at some point in my life. I'd rather just shove the ring back into his face so he never has whatsoever to defend himselft against me," you murmured as you fiddled with your serviette.

Sherlock gave you a surprised expression. “Whoa. Don't you think that was a little harsh?"

You adhere to your sights locked on his shade of blue crystal eyes, which are intent on your face as well. "He-he sometimes irritates me. It's as if he believes I'm incapable of handling anything on my own. He acts as if he needs to be with me all the time to 'guard' me. It can get really uncomfortable." 

For a while, Sherlock stayed silent.

"Hell, I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this," you said hesitantly. You were abruptly humiliated. For this insane scheme, he probably believed you were insane. You were likely making matters worse by shouting about your fiancé, with whom you were meant to be passionately in affection. 

But he just smiled. "No, it's fine. It is essential to express yourself. But, if I were you, I'd confess how I feel to him. If you plan on spending the rest of your life with him..."

You let out a sigh. "Set it aside. How about you?" You asked. "Any other significant others? Not right now," Sherlock responded softly. "But I assure you, I have ladies lining up for me," he continued hastily, seeing your grin.

You furrowed your brow. "Oh? Even with that horrible curly?"

He screamed and clutched his chest. "I'm offended! If I may say so myself, it looks rather hot on me." You giggled. "I was kidding. Well, it does." you said normally,

"Does what?"

"Look sexy."

You didn't realise what you'd spoken for a split second. A bell went off in your head as Sherlock grinned wildly. You felt your cheeks heat and averted your gaze from him, embarrassed.

What the bloody hell was wrong with you?

You swallowed and coughed. "We— erm. We should going." For God's sake, evading his ocean eyes while uttering a point pervert is a terrible choice!

His smirk remained on his face till he said goodnight and entered his hotel room.

[cyberpunkboytoy]

my thought process right know just went like this for some reason: eiji likes bombs > noiz has usagimodoki > eiji sees usagi and wonders if it can be turned to a bomb > remembered noiz literally threw one of the cubes @ the allmate guardian dog as a pseudo bomb (if you squint) > *bbc sherlock mind palace sequence* > they're now Best Acquaintances

(btw i appreciate your thoughts, good post 🫂)

(in response to this ask)

Oh my god....oh my god??? You're a genius.

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

@febuwhump Day 8: Panic

You can now find my contributions to Febuwhump on Ao3!

Things would never be the same again. After everything he’d been through, something had snapped. Sherlock simply didn’t have it in him anymore. Sometimes he was wondering if he was going insane, or maybe if he had been crazy all along.

He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know what he was doing. Apparently half of his memories were fake. Sherlock had always had a vivid imagination. He had considered it his greatest forte, being able to sort information in his mind palace or to envision how an event must have unfolded. But how could he trust himself now, after he had learned about a dog that had never existed and a sister and a friend who he had forgotten, and all of that in the most horrible way imaginable, and Mycroft had lied to him all along and Sherlock had almost lost everything and his identity in the process. He didn’t know what was real anymore, and what could be more devastating to a rational mind like his? He was losing it. Sherlock was fairly sure he was losing it.

Currently, he was relatively sure he was in a dingy bathroom at New Scotland Yard, splashing water in his face and desperately trying not to hyperventilate. After the bomb and Sherrinford – that doesn’t make any sense it can’t be real it can’t be real it can’t – he had tried to go back to business as usual. Lestrade had found him a nice double-homicide and Sherlock had worked on it for a few days, ignoring the ever-rising feeling of uneasiness. He had dropped by Scotland Yard today, wanting to review one of the files, when he had realized there was an inconsistency in his own deductions. How could he not have seen it before? He had never found an answer because next thing he knew he was shivering and feeling unbearably hot and he needed to get out, he needed to get out, and now he was clutching the rim of a sink in a shabby men’s restroom, and God, maybe he was actually going to be sick …

He heard the squeaking of the door and turned away on instinct when he heard someone enter the room. He tried to hold his breath to appear as normal as possible, but to his absolute horror he found he could do no such thing. He was helpless and there was someone watching and he squeezed his eyes shut in a fruitless attempt to escape the situation.

“Sherlock?”

Oh, it was Lestrade. Sherlock tried to find out how he was feeling about this, but he didn’t know – was that normal? Wasn’t one supposed to know a thing like that?

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

He couldn’t answer and then suddenly he could. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, and that alone was so out of character that he flinched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I cannot do it, I cannot …”

“It’s okay, Sherlock.” Lestrade was approaching him carefully and Sherlock tried to turn away as far as possible, facing the corner. “You don’t owe us anything, you know?”

But it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay. Sherlock was trembling and he couldn’t breathe properly and nothing, absolutely nothing was okay. Maybe this wasn’t even real. How was he supposed to know a thing like this?!

Lestrade was close now. Sherlock could smell his cheap aftershave and he didn’t know why his brain insisted on informing him about the brand. This was madness. It was humiliating enough to not be able to control his body, but his mind –  

There was a pair of hands on his shoulders. “Easy now. You are alright. C’mon, you might want to sit down. That’s it.”

It wasn’t the first time that Lestrade had witnessed him at his absolute lowest, and maybe it was that or the bone-deep exhaustion Sherlock felt which lead him to finally obey. He sank to the ground, trying to ignore that it was mostly Lestrade’s doing that he wasn’t simply slumping down. He was still trembling and gasping and his whole body was buzzing with adrenaline, but he also felt desperately tired. He could fall asleep here and now.

“You’re alright,” he heard Lestrade say and was faintly aware that he had been mumbling the same thing over and over for sixty seconds. “Try to calm down now. You’re doing well. Perfect. Just … breathe.”

Sherlock realised that he had closed his eyes. He opened them reluctantly to a room illuminated with pale neon light, and to Lestrade crouched down in front of him, hands still on his shoulders and looking considerably worried.

Sherlock was drenched in cold sweat and feeling faint, and his heart was still hammering in his chest. He could feel mortification creep up on him and hurriedly closed his eyes again. The panic was receding, but the feeling of dread wasn’t.

Lestrade needed to let him go.

“I can’t solve this case,” he whispered, shivering with his own words. “I can’t. I don’t think I can ever do it again.”

He could hear Lestrade sigh, his hands moving up and down his shoulders in an awkward but soothing gesture. “That’s fine, Sherlock,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to. You are under no obligation. I still think you are perfectly competent, but I think you might need a small break.”

“But what am I going to do?” Sherlock asked, desperation seeping into his voice. He could feel his eyes beginning to burn and squeezed them shut a bit tighter. There was no going back now. “What am I going to do?,” he whispered, “Greg, I think I am losing my mind …”

“Sherlock …” Lestrade’s voice was really soft, and Sherlock was glad he couldn’t see his face. “You have gone through a lot in the past few years. Hell, it would be insane to not have a little breakdown after all that. But you are certainly not losing your mind.”

Sherlock gave a tiny, doubtful sound for an answer that definitely wasn’t a sob.

“It’s perfectly normal that you’re having a bit of trouble now,” Lestrade continued. “That whole thing with your sister … Well, I have only read the minimal part that wasn’t classified, and that was absurd enough. And before that, Milverton and …” He trailed off with an awkward little cough. “You need some rest,” he said kindly. “Maybe go on a holiday. Talk to someone. Take some time to think this over. And maybe, when you feel better, you can go back to consulting. Or if you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright as well. You will be fine, Sherlock.”

“But that’s what I am,” Sherlock said desperately. “I’m a consulting detective!” He was rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the sting.

“You are,” Greg assured him. “But I have known you for many years now, Sherlock, and it definitely isn’t the only thing you are.”

There was a long silence. Somewhere above them, water was dripping from the tap into the sink. Sherlock was feeling unfathomably tired. “I should probably go home now,” he finally said.

Lestrade smiled and squeezed his shoulder before getting up and extending his hand. “Come on. I will take you. My private car, don’t worry.”

And Sherlock, blinking from a sudden surge of gratitude, knew there was only one thing to say. “Thank you, Greg.”

[thetimemoves]

INCREDIBLE THOUGHTS (for some reason sharing straight from AO3 is giving me an error, so video goes straight to Vimeo)

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Philip Anderson, James Moriarty, John Watson, Henry Knight, Toby the Dog (Sherlock Holmes), Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes), Stella Hopkins, Dimmock (Sherlock) Additional Tags: Fanvids, Humor, Fandom Trumps Hate, Sherlock's Mind Palace Series: Part 13 of Vids by Dee Summary:

"Enjoy a witty, smart, clever show that's obnoxiously aware of how witty, smart, and clever it is." --Honest Trailers

*****

“I swear my mind blows my mind!”

My second FTH vid from @deelaundry and I can’t get over this brilliant take at what it must be like in the swirling maelstrom of Sherlock’s mind. I can’t stop watching this, it’s just so. damn. good. Please go check it out- you’ll be just as blown away, I know!

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

L.D.S.K.

Summary: The BAU travels to Des Plains, Illinois to assist in a search for a LDSK which stands for Long Distance Serial Killer, in simple terms, a sniper who keeps shooting people in the stomach. Meanwhile, Spencer Reid, a confirmed genius who is unable to grasp how to shoot a gun, fails his firearms qualifications and is forced to work without a gun—profilers aren't required to use one. But as Gideon once told Hotch, "You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone" while Hotch carries two guns and Zoe carries more hidden guns than she should be able to.

Warning: Pouty Spencer Reid; Hotch jokes that Zoe is violent towards men (with a bullet to the crotch); Zoe insists Spencer Reid has "virgin" hair; Talk of empathizing with and humanizing UnSubs; Mentions of past sexual sadist; Mentions of a gun to a twelve-year-old girl's head; Mentions of David Rossi; Sniper shooting at team; Minor character death; Headshot; Blood; Zoe is implied to be able to sense if someone is shooting at her; Overly arrogant surgeon that I would prefer not to be mine (sure, he was right but I don't want a surgeon with a god complex operating on me—he reminds me of Doctor Strange in the beginning of his first movie, operating while naming music and years and being cocky at it); Hero Homicide/Hero Syndrome Complex; Jokey Implication that Zoe may physically assault an annoying person; Another UnSub hating Zoe for her brilliance and accusing her of nepotism; Hotch being mean to Zoe and kicked-into-the-sun-puppy-dog Spencer Reid; Main Character gets shot; Mind Palace; More scenes taken straight-out of the "Sherlock" BBC TV show; Zarah Noble-Valdez appearance sort of; Hint of Zoe's BPD (Hallucinations); Blood; Cursing; Panicking Alexander Noble; Hurt Spencer Reid

"Use the past to prepare for the future but never allow your past to define your future."

October 26, 2005

Spencer was redoing his firearms qualification; he wasn't very good with a firearm. The silhouette target had two gunshots just left of the head and one gunshot right of the head.

Hotch was yet again, training Spencer how to shoot again.

"On SWAT we broke shots down into three steps. One: front sight, focus on the front sight, not on the target. Two: controlled trigger press. Three: follow through, after the shot you come right back to the target." Hotch explained to Spencer, "Now, what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't follow through." Spencer sighed.

"Right. You came off the target to see where you hit." Hotch agreed.

"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning. I barely passed my last one." Spencer complained, taking the earmuffs off.

Hotch gently pushed Spencer so he would get out of the way and Spencer got the hint.

"Front sight, trigger press..." Hotch said, taking out his own gun while Spencer put the earmuffs back over his ears and pressed them against them. Hotch's shot hit the head of the target, "Follow through." He holstered his gun, you do those three things, you'll hit your target every time."

Hotch stepped out of the way and Spencer held up his gun again

Spencer's next shot was to the silhouette's pelvis, near the groin.

"Did Zoe teach you that?" Hotch deadpanned.

"They're going to take away my gun." Spencer sighed.

"A profiler is not required to carry it." Hotch reminded him

"Yeah? And yet you carry two of them and Zoe," He jabbed his thumb in the direction where Zoe was across the building, working, "carries at least half a dozen and she shot a one hundred on her qualifications test."

"Well, she's Agent Noble's surviving daughter. He insisted on bringing her on cases and she would not listen and kept getting herself into trouble." Hotch shrugged. "David Rossi taught her to shoot a gun when she was five and by seven, she was better than he was." He took the gun out of his ankle holster and shot three bullets right into the silhouette's chest. "When I joined the BAU, Gideon said to me, 'You don't have to carry a gun to kill someone'."

"I don't get it." Spencer said.

"You will. Good luck tomorrow."

—————————————————————————————————-

October 27, 2005

The next day, Gideon entered the BAU and Zoe called out to him, "Spencer failed his qualification."

"Well, he can re-test in two weeks."

"Yeah, but he's going to be embarrassed about it, so let's not mention it." Zoe said, giving Morgan a pointed look

"Yeah, let's not, huh?" Gideon said.

"Not a word." Morgan promised and Zoe gave him a skeptical look.

Spencer walked into the BAU, frowning, in a mood and sat at his desk.

Morgan picked up a whistle and walked to Spencer's desk.

"Hey. We're all here for you. I'm serious." Morgan said and Spencer looked up at him with a very annoyed expression as Zoe from her spot nearby glared at him. "If you ever need anything..." He put the whistle over Spencer's head, around his neck and he blew into it, making it whistle, "Just blow on that." He chuckled as he walked off and Spencer yanked the whistle off.

Zoe walked to him, "Ignore Morgan, he's an ass." Zoe said, placing Spencer's labeled mug on his table. "Here, coffee with the whole container of sugar on it. You know, you don't need a gun to kill someone."

"What does that mean?" Spencer asked.

Zoe opened her mouth when JJ approached with Hotch, "Hey. Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon. Three victims shot at distance." She started to hand out the files, "It's the third such shooting in two weeks.

"A sniper?" Elle asked.

"We don't use that word." Morgan said.

"Why not?"

"The public perception is that the FBI doesn't have an exemplary record with snipers." JJ said.

"Besides, a sniper is a professional marksman. These guys aren't snipers." Hotch said.

"What do we call them, then?"

"L.D.S.K." Zoe said.

"Long distance serial killers." Spencer clarified.

"How many of these guys have we caught using a profile?" Elle asked.

"None." Gideon said.

"First time for everything." Zoe said.

They regrouped into the conference room, going over the case.

"Two weeks. Three shooting incidents. Six victims. All shot in the abdomen. First and only fatality, Henry Sachs," Hotch clicked the remote for the monitor showing the Sachs family picture and the crime scene where he was shot, "married, father of three, shot in a shopping center parking lot." He clicked the remote, showing two men and a basketball court, "Nine days later, Doug Miller and Kevin Parks were playing basketball at a community center." He clicked the remote again, showing the picture of a park and then three people, "Franklin Park. Four days later, Jerry Middleton, Kate Murray and Tim Reilly. The Des Plaines Police have found no link between any of the victims."

"Ballistics?" Morgan asked.

"He's using frangible rounds which fragment on impact, making ballistics comparisons impossible."

"The good news is that all the park victims are going to make it. The bad news is that none of them saw anything." JJ said, "However, one of the patients does have an intact bullet lodged in his spine."

"That's a dangerous place to be shot, what's the prognosis?" Zoe asked.

"Well, there's disagreement among surgical staff as to whether they can remove the slug without paralyzing the patient."

"I'd like to talk to the doctors to get more input, see if I can be of any help." Zoe said.

"Of course." Gideon agreed.

"Well, without a useful witness or solid piece of forensic evidence..." Morgan said.

"The profile is all we'll have." Hotch finished.

—————————————————————————————————

Nietzsche wrote, "The irrationality of a thing is not an argument "against its existence, rather, a condition of it."

"L.D.S.K.s are so rare we haven't been able to build a standard profile." Hotch said on the way to Illinois in the jet, "Here's what we do know: they're always male, they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

"To take credit or relive the experience?" JJ asked.

"Both. All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim. Contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have." Gideon said.

"The Beltway Shooters left a tarot card at one of their crime scenes. Later they called a tip hotline which ultimately led to their capture." Hotch said.

"But our UnSub hasn't contacted anybody." Morgan said.

"He will."

"Until he does, what do we have?" Elle asked.

"Sometimes it's not what the UnSub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do." Gideon said.

"He doesn't kill his victims." Spencer said.

"Underkill is a unique signature." Gideon said.

"Question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally, just to wound them? Or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target? Specifically, does the UnSub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?" Hotch asked.

"Zoe, how dangerous is a gunshot to the stomach?" Gideon asked.

"It's probably the safest, for lack of a better word, place to be shot, it's less likely any vital organs will be shot, and it varies on the amount of time before blood loss leads to death." Zoe explained.

—————————————————————————————————

Zoe and Gideon were led to a room in the hospital where two surgeons were arguing, "Come on, Barry, you don't know that!"

"Good morning, doctors" Cheryl Marston, a hospital resident who was leading the agents through the hospital and introducing them.

"Forgive us. We were just reviewing the cases at hand." The man who had spoken before said.

"This is Doctor Neil Erstadt, Chief of Surgery, and our trauma specialist, Doctor Barry Landman." Marston introduced, "These are the FBI profilers, Agents Gideon, Jareau, Greenaway, Noble-Valdez."

"Doctor Noble-Valdez." Gideon corrected and Zoe waved her hand.

Gideon shook hands with Erstandt, "How are you?" He reached to shake with Landman.

"You'll forgive me. I don't shake. My hands, you understand?"

Clearly this was one of those big ego doctors like.

"Of course." Gideon said.

"I'm sorry, did you say this little girl is a doctor?" Landman asked, skeptically.

"I turn twenty in a few days."

"You're nineteen and a doctor? A PhD, I presume? At your age."

"No, it's a medical degree. I got it when I was seventeen." Zoe said, trying not to be showboaty but still Landman visibly clenched his jaw.

"She's a genius." Gideon said. "She's a forensic pathologist as well as a forensic psychologist."

"So as psychological profilers, what exactly are you looking for?" Landman asked.

"How the victims were shot. That could reveal the shooter's signature behavior." Gideon said.

"These separate wound channels 'blossom' from the entrance wounds. You can see the trauma is extensive." Erstadt said, referring to the

"You performed the surgeries?" Zoe asked.

"On patient Miller. I consulted with Dr. Landman on the others."

"It looks like the intact slug lodged between the L4-L5 vertebrae." Zoe observed.

"Any attempt to remove it would likely leave the patient paralyzed." Erstadt said.

"In your opinion." Landman scoffed in a tone that clearly said that he thought his opinion was so much more superior than Erstadt's.

In my opinion?" Erstadt asked, incredulously.

"Disagree?" Gideon asked.

"With the right surgeon, there is no risk." Landman said, arrogantly.

"There's always risk." Zoe said, sternly. "There's always a possibility on success and there's always risk."

"What significance does the bullet have in building the profile?" Marston asked.

Well, even if we can't get a ballistics match, we can get a rifle type, and the specific type of rifle the suspect uses." Gideon explained, "That could be very significant to the profile.

"You believe you can safely perform the surgery, Dr. Landman?

"I know I can."

———————————————————���————————————

"I think if Landman talks too much, I might punch him. He's insisting he bags up the bullet. Arrogant prick." Zoe said a while later after re-entering the conference room, after helping with the surgery. She was struggling to pull her hair out of a braided crown.

"Zoe, Zoe, come here before you rip your hair out." JJ laughed, gently.

Zoe sat in the chair next to JJ as JJ carefully undid the braided crown and started to redo another crown braid, this one was a half-up, half-down one.

Zoe leaned her head back and let her. She hadn't had many motherly figures in her life. Sure, all three of Rossi's ex-wives, Gideon's ex-wife, Jill Gideon, but she had rarely had someone willing to braid her hair... other than Zarah and then...

Gideon smiled at this, Zoe so rarely had someone in her life, willing to actually care for her in the way that a mother would even though JJ was only five years older than Zoe. Zarah had always had that way of care for Zoe but after Zarah went missing, Zoe refused to let anyone do it.

"If I'm the UnSub, why do I shoot my victims between two-fifty-five and three-fifteen?" Elle asked.

"That's when I'd do it." Gideon said. "There are fewer cops on the street."

"Why's that?" Elle asked.

"Well, the police overlap shifts, so there's always someone minding the store. Second shift starts at three, first shift walks at three-thirty." Gideon explained.

"Wouldn't there be twice as many cops on the street at that time?" JJ asked, still gently doing the braid in Zoe's hair.

"In theory." Zoe said.

"First half-hour of your shift, you're in roll call, you're not on the street. And the last half-hour, you're at the station, you're finishing reports, you're booking prisoners. So the twenty-five minutes around the first/second shift, that's a bad guy's golden window."

"When you spend your childhood in police stations all over America, you pick up on things like that." Zoe said.

"How many people outside law enforcement would know that?" Elle asked and looked at Gideon and she pointed at him. "But the UnSub does, and you've already thought of this."

"I had considered it." Gideon said.

Landman entered the room and Zoe rolled her eyes. He held up the now bagged bullet and dropped it on the table in front of Gideon, "Hope you find it useful."

"Doctor Landman? How is Mister Middleton?"

"The patient will make a full recovery. As I told you he would." Landman said.

"It's apparently a regular thing for him to have someone play music and he identifies it while he's doing the surgery." Zoe said, "No respect."

"Radiology is set up to take photos and e-mail them out for consults." JJ said.

"Call Hotch. We're getting the bullet to Garcia. Fill him in on the shift-change theory." Gideon said.

—————————————————————————————————-

Later that day, there was another shooting at a cafe and after observing the crime scene, they gave the profile to the police.

"This initial profile is not ready to be given to the media. Releasing this profile prematurely can get people killed." JJ warned the officers. She stepped away and Hotch took her place.

"We're looking for a thirty to forty-year-old male veteran driving a car large enough to shoot from, but not so large it was noticed. Like the Beltway Shooter, it's probably a sedan, customized to conceal the shooter, his weapon and the sound of his shot. The UnSub suffers from both narcissistic and paranoid personality disorders. He works out obsessively and is never without a weapon. He's completely self-centered and cannot empathize with others. Incapable of admitting fault, he blames his shortcomings on those around him. He has no friends, and his career history has been marked by frequent job changes. He's drawn to high-stakes jobs by a need to prove his superiority to a world he perceives has undervalued him. And these shootings are the ultimate expression of that need. We believe he changes jurisdictions intentionally, and strikes during the first/second shift change, indicating an intimate knowledge of law enforcement."

"You're saying he's one of us?" One of the police officers said.

"We're saying he once was, or is now, a police officer." Hotch said.

"Is he driving a white van, too?" One police officer quipped, making some of the officers laugh.

"Enough." Sergeant Wayne Weigart said. "That'll be all for now." He turned to Hotch, "We can talk in my office."

"Thank you." Hotch told the officers.

—————————————————————————————————-

Spencer walked up to where Gideon, Alexander, and Zoe were. Alexander was badgering Zoe about taking her pills and her migraines.

"Dad-Daddy!" She grumbled. "We're in Illinois, I don't have a migraine, that's only in hot southern states."

Gideon looked up to see Spencer. "How you holding up?"

"Look at me. Without a gun on my belt, I look like a teaching assistant." Spencer complained.

"You're not worried about how you look." Alexander asked, "if that were true, you wouldn't have that hair."

"What is it with the Nobles and their standards on hair?" Spencer asked, irritably.

"It screams virgin." Zoe remarked. "And you always dress like this."

"Hotch told me that when he came to the BAU, you told him he didn't need a gun to kill somebody?" Spencer asked Gideon as his mentor stood up.

"He told me that nearly every day, he took me to practice shooting." Zoe said.

"Zelena used to say it." Alexander said.

"Well, the only truly effective weapon we have is our ability to do the one thing they can't." Gideon said.

"Which is what?"

"Empathize." Zoe said.

"They dehumanize their victims; we humanize the killers." Gideon agreed.

"You're just saying that to convince me I don't need to carry a gun." Spencer sighed.

"I don't care if you carry a gun or not. Deadliest weapon we have is a thorough and accurate profile."

"Of course, you believe that." Spencer said.

"Footpath Killer—he had a shotgun in the back of my head. I'm here, he's not." Gideon said and then moved past Spencer and Alexander followed him.

"You know, David Rossi?" Zoe asked Spencer.

"Of course." Spencer said.

"When I was a toddler, I used to do crosswords with him until I finished them faster than him... in pen. He pouted about it for... seventeen years now."

"So? And is there any other way to do crossword puzzles?"

"He told me that the mind of a profiler may just be all you need against an UnSub with a gun. You just need to know what kind of a UnSub you're dealing with and he was right. When I was twelve years old a sexual sadist serial killer who got off on power and control held a gun to my head after he chased my sister and I through an entire storage site."

"Who?"

"It's not important. He shot the men and stabbed the women."

"A misogynist." He gathered.

"He targeted women out of hatred. The solid victimology was the younger the female the more he stabbed them."

"A hebephile."

"I was twelve years old; what do you think he wanted to do to me and here I am six years later and he's non-active." Zoe stepped closer to Spencer. "I was a captive of a cult—a cult that was created because I refused to break under any of the torture, they put me through—for eight months under the orders of a serial killer who was obsessed with me and guess what I'm here and they're not."

"Why didn't he shoot you?" Spencer couldn't help but ask.

"I knew his profile. They didn't even have an official profile but I knew enough to use it against him. I didn't give him the one thing he wanted—fear. Therefore, stripping his control over me..." But then she gulped.

"What?"

"So he found another way to have control over me." She trailed off.

Spencer could tell she didn't want to talk about it anymore. "I like your hair like that." He said, softly.

—————————————————————————————————-

October 28, 2005

They were doing a reenactment of the shooting in the park; they were spread out among the park. Sergent Weigart, Detective Calvin, and Gideon were in the van, looking at the cameras shown by some of the agents and officers.

"Elle, Jerry Middleton was facing a little further south. Can you give us that?" Hotch asked.

"How's that?" Elle asked.

"Perfect. Hold your camera right there."

"It doesn't look like Jerry Middleton had a clear view of the sniper's vehicle when he was shot. The tree branches are in the way." Gideon said through the walkie-talkie.

"I do have a clear view of the vehicle from here. Tim Reilly would have seen it if he'd looked down from the kite." Spencer's voice said some twenty yards away from Zoe who was taking oddly specific steps and muttering to herself, switching between Spanish and English.

"Good, have the UnSub pop the trunk, see if Reid can see it. " Gideon said.

"No, sorry. I can't."

"Nothing from position one."

"Okay, everybody, move to position two."

"What the hell is Zoe doing?" Morgan asked and Zoe held up her hand and flipped him off without turning around.

"Zoe." Hotch scolded into the walkie-talkie.

"Is she okay?" Spencer asked Alexander, nodding to Zoe.

Zoe had been quiet all day. She was wearing more moon jewelry can usual, opal moon stud earrings, a chain charm bracelet, along with the necklace that matched the earrings.

"It's Zarah's twentieth birthday." Alexander told him.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Spencer said. Then he went to approach Zoe. "Hey. What are you doing?"

"My cousin, Maze, she was a tracker and she taught me how to track where people could be. If someone what right here, they would've had the best visual of the UnSub."

"But no one was."

"Yeah." She sighed.

"Agent Noble, uh, your dad, told me..."

"Yeah, it's the fourth time. It tends to come once a year." Zoe sighed, "I don't want to talk about it."

"So, um, you know David Rossi, what's he like?"

"Um... Italian, loud, gets married and divorced every six months or so, easily irritated, smug, arrogant, sarcastic, obsessive, egotistical, overprotective, disobedient, rude, bossy, wry, ornery..." She said.

"Half of that sounds like you." Spencer joked in his usual even voice, and he gave her his usual awkward smile, telling her it was a joke, a sarcastic smile appeared on her lips as she looked at him.

"Mmm. Where's your gun again?" She teased back, she walked a little way away, still in that specific stepping.

Zoe turned when SWAT went to the practice car, throwing the smoke bomb in. Elle started to run behind a tree.

"Reid!" Morgan said, running to Spencer.

"What?"

"Reid, get down!" Then he tackled the already unathletic Spencer down.

"Zoe, get down!" Alexander shouted but Zoe didn't move. She looked at the car they were using. She stood stock-still, something she only did when she was deep in thought and really focusing, when she was on an even higher alert than usual, when she was focusing on everything around her.

Weigart was speaking, "Toss your rifle and your side arm out of the vehicle and show us your hands!"

"I don't understand." McCarthy was in the car, playing the unsub as punishment for mouthing off. But he didn't quite fit the profile in Zoe's mind. He sounded genuinely confused.

"We know what you did, Scotty."

"Look, I can explain."c

"Don't make me give the order!" Weigart shouted.

"Okay, all right, all right!"

Zoe saw him toss the rifle out of the car and Weigart said something but with a lowered, calmer voice and she couldn't quite hear what he was saying but assumed it was an order to open the lid, slowly as McCarthy did just that.

He got out with his hands up, looking at his Sergent as he and the SWAT agents pointed guns at him until one of them, pushed him to the ground to arrest him.

Zoe suddenly turned her head just left of them to see another car and the license plate slot open.

"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" She shouted into the walkie-talkie but before anyone could react to her warning McCarthy was shot in the head.

"Shot fired!"

"Get down!"

Zoe ran towards the car, despite the team screaming under suddenly she spun out of the way just before a bullet hit her, grazing her shoulder and she took cover behind a tree. When she looked back the car was gone and she hadn't taken note of what kind of car it was or seen the license plate.

"ANGEL!"

—————————————————————————————————-

They walked into the police station, Zoe was holding a cloth to her arm that was bleeding while Alexander just about was on her heels holding her leather jacket.

"Dad! It's a graze. It's a simple fix." She shouted, taking out her med pack; Spencer, having read about first aid went over to her to help.

"How did McCarty end up playing the UnSub?" JJ asked Detective Calvin as Spencer checked Zoe's wound to see if there was any foreign material in the wound.

"Weigart punished McCarty for mouthing off during the profile briefing by making him the UnSub and sticking him in the trunk of the car all afternoon." She explained as Zoe cleaned the wound.

"Wait, then how did the UnSub find out about the re-enactment?" JJ asked as Zoe spread antibiotic cream around her graze.

"Look, come on, cops talk. Pissed-off cops talk loud. At home, at the bars, at gyms, and to anyone who'll listen." Morgan said as Spencer helped Zoe place an adhesive bandage over the graze.

"What do we know?" Gideon asked, "Our UnSub went from wounding civilians to executing a police officer. So, he's escalated. He's not staying on script."

"Sometimes it's what they don't do." Hotch repeated what Gideon had said at the beginning of the case.

"He did not pick McCarty at random." Spencer said.

"He didn't take the gut shot." Morgan added.

"Why?" Hotch asked.

Gideon looked around at them.

"He wants to send a message." Zoe said "'Nobody takes credit for my work'."

"Yes, ma'am, his ego won't allow it. He feels underappreciated.

"Did you just call me, ma'am?" Zoe asked.

"Okay. But we still don't know why he wounds them." Elle said as Morgan's phone rang.

"Excuse me." He said, taking the phone call and walking off to take it.

"We know if a killer has no contact with his victims, he will contact the media." Gideon said.

"But he hasn't contacted the media." Elle said.

"So, he has contact with his victims." Zoe said. "And there's only one way."

"All right, thanks." Morgan said and rejoined them, "Garcia nailed down the geographic profile. The crime scenes are centered on two separate locations."

"The hospitals."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe took her motorcycle, weaving through the cars while in one of the cars, Gideon said, "I believe it's a case of 'hero homicide'."

"What's that?" Detective Calvin asked.

"The best-known case was hospital nurse Richard Angelo. He would inject toxins into his victims, then wait for them to crash so that he could run to the rescue and save them." Spencer explained. "He killed twenty-five people, and that's just that we know of."

If he attacked them to save them, why did he kill twenty-five people?" Detective Calvin asked.

"Wasn't very good at it." Gideon said, dryly.

"Yeah, and hospitals don't keep records of people who almost died."

"So, what's the profile of one of these guys?" Detective Calvin asked.

"Arrogant. Conceited. Feel superior to everyone around them."

"You've just described every surgeon I've ever met." Detective Calvin chuckled.

"Except Zoe." Spencer said and then bit his lip, awkwardly.

Gideon's memory went to when Zoe came out of helping Landman with surgery and she was complaining about Landman's ego. "Landman. Let's start with Landman."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe was in the hospital conference room from before already with Marston, "Landman?" She asked, "Already called Garcia on a background on Landman."

A little later, it was faxed over, and Morgan picked up the paper from the printer. "Okay, courtesy of Garcia. Landman was Army. Started out in MP school."

"Well, there's your law enforcement." Elle said.

"He was smart. Got a degree on Uncle Sam and ended up a doctor with Special Forces. And bounced around from hospital to hospital since his discharge in 2001." Morgan said.

"Has Doctor. Landman been under any unusual strain? Has he had a reprimand? Has he had any kind of major blow to his ego?"  Gideon asked Marston

"Last month he was passed over for Chief of Surgery." She said.

"Let's get a warrant for his house. Let's see if we find the weapon." Gideon said.

"Okay." Morgan said, getting up.

"What can I do to help?" Marston asked.

"You can tell me where he is right now." Gideon said.

—————————————————————————————————-

Gideon and Zoe entered the MRI room where Landman was. He turned to see them.

"Where's Marston?" He asked.

"She's not coming." Gideon said.

He turned back to the MRI scans and tried to dismiss them, "Look, I'm very busy right now. Perhaps you could make an appointment."

We're the FBI, we don't need to make appointments.

"Busy with what?" Zoe asked, innocently.

"Things." He said, irritably like she was an annoying little child.

"What kind of things?" Zoe asked with the same innocent tone, with an only slightly patronizing tone.

Landman finally turned and then spotted Alexander looking through the window, then Elle, JJ, and Spencer arrived.

He looked at Zoe and Gideon like they were stupid.

"You're considering me a suspect?"

Yes." Gideon and Zoe said.

"Well, that's disconcerting. I heard what happened to your last suspect."

"Do you wanna know why?" Gideon asked.

"Collective incompetence?" Landman scoffed.

Oh, like you're so much better.

"No, actually, like Doctor Erstadt and I told you, there's always risk." Zoe said, he just looked at her annoyed. "Have you ever heard of hero homicide?" Zoe asked and then continued on before he could answer, "According to Laura Berman Fortgang described it as a phenomenon affecting people who seek heroism or recognition, usually by creating a desperate situation which they can resolve and subsequently receive the accolades from."

Spencer mouthed along with Zoe's word, nodding in approval at the accuracy.

"Would I be less suspicious if I let my patients die?" He scoffed.

"Absolutely." Zoe said, shaking her head just to spite him.

Alexander turned to Spencer, JJ, and Elle as Hotch arrived.

"There's like a sixty-five percent chance Landman will need immediate surgery by the end of the hour." Alexander deadpanned.

"That is accurate." Spencer nodded.

"This type of killer seeks the power over life and death." Gideon said from inside the room. "He covets the power of God."

"Do you know anyone like that?" Zoe asked.

"I want you to understand something, little girl.  When my patients are in the operating room, they need God, and that is exactly what I give them. When someone's holding your beating heart in their hands, who do you want holding it? Me? Or God?" Landman said, pretty much embodying the description Gideon had just given.

"I'd like it not to be you, I know that," Zoe deadpanned.

"Where were you today at three o'clock?" Gideon asked.

"I was in my office."

"Alone?"

I was in my office with Doctor Hannah Pate. I'm not the only one who thinks I'm a god. She's in the ER right now. Go on. Ask her."

"I'm gonna leave and ask Doctor Pate before I punch him." Zoe muttered to Gideon and left. Then Zoe poked her head in and pointed at the MRI scans. "Also, that patient has a blood clot in the brain not a tumor. Guess Doctor God Big Ego missed that." She pulled her head back out of the door and turned to the group. "What'd I tell you, arrogant prick."

"Zeo, Reid, let's take a walk down to the ER." Hotch said and the two youngest agents followed their unit chief.

"My guess is, Doctor Pate is going to corroborate Landman's alibi." Hotch said.

"You don't think Landman's the shooter?" Spencer asked.

"Richard Angelo wanted to be a hero because in his everyday life he was nobody." Hotch said. "Landman is a surgeon. He has power and recognition."

"So much power, he thinks he's a god. I bet ten years from now he'll be as convinced as Empedocles was." Zoe muttered, sarcastically.

"Yeah, but you know, surgeons are a different breed. They're the stars in their field and Landman is definitely not one of them." Spencer said.

"Yeah, he can't tell the difference between a brain clot and a tumor." Zoe said, "He insists that there is no risk with the right surgeon and his displays a lack of empathy for his patients with no ability for bedside manner. His god complex is practically bordering on delusion, no wonder he was passed for the promotion. Even his superiors can tell there's something not right with him."

"Excuse me. I'd like to speak with Doctor Pate." Hotch said to a male nurse when they reached the station, showing his FBI badge.

"Yes, sir, I'll go find her for you." He said and left.

Zoe sighed, heavily.

"What?"

"The motivations for hero homicide are excitement, power and respect. And even though Landman's not a star, he still gets respect. And he lets it go to his head."

"She's right. Racing against the clock to save someone's life is exciting." Hotch agreed.

"Maybe it's not exciting enough, that's... That's why he shoots three people at a time." Spencer suggested.

"Don't get me wrong. Landman has issues and I would recommend he get a psych eval, he most likely has narcissistic personality disorder. He's a viable suspect for hero homicide but... But he can only operate on one at a time. Even he doesn't have that much of a God complex. It wouldn't be any more exciting."

They looked around at the hospital staff interacting with the patients.

"At least not for Landman. And not in the OR." Hotch said.

"Policemen and ER personnel are on the exact same twenty-four-hour shift schedule." Spencer realized.

"The UnSub wasn't shooting at shift change because there are fewer cops on the street." Hotch realized, "He works the second shift in the emergency room!"

"Contact with the victims." Spencer said, excitedly.

Hotch took out his phone but a nurse told him, "Sir, you can't use a cell phone in the hospital."

"The electromagnetic waves of a phone can cause interference with sensitive equipment, especially devices that monitor physiological effects." Zoe confirmed, nodding.

Hotch, Spencer, and Zoe moved over to the nurse, "Excuse me for a minute, please. We're FBI agents, and we believe that one of your staff members might be the sniper. Now the man that we're looking for works second shift and he would have transferred from Arlington in the past two weeks."

"We haven't hired any new personnel in two months." The nurse said.

"Are you sure?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah. Look, I've got patients who need me...

"Please." Zoe pleaded, "He's shooting people so he can tend to them in the hospital. He's already killed two people. He's in his thirties. He's vain, rude, arrogant, he works out, he shows up to work late, he blames others for his mistakes, doesn't take responsibility for his behavior, all of his co-workers detest him..."

"Oh, my God. It's Phillip Dowd." She realized with fear. "He's... He picks up shifts at Arlington."

"Is he here today?" Hotch asked.

"Oh, my God." The nurse said, looking around, fearful for her patients.

"Okay..." Hotch gently took her by the arms to get her to focus on him. "Okay. Your patients need you calm. Tell me, is Dowd working today?" The nurse nodded. "Do you see him?" The nurse looked around and shook her head. Hotch turned to Spencer, "Go tell Gideon."

Spencer went to hurry but Hotch said, "Reid. Easy." Spencer nodded. "Zoe, go with him."

Zoe nodded and joined Spencer. Then a male nurse started to pass them but then he suddenly moved, Zoe's instincts kicked in and she ducked, her hand missed grabbing onto Spencer's to pull him down, and spun around, ending up in a position with one knee on the floor, one foot flat on the floor and her fingertips touching the floor, meanwhile she heard the butt of the rifle hit Spencer in the face, knocking him down.

Zoe used her excellent deductive skills to deduce that this must be Dowd. He shot at the fuse box, making the lights go out, except a few. Yeah, gotta set the mood for a mass shooting. They were on lockdown.

Dowd has grabbed a security guard and was using him as a human body shield against Hotch's gun. Zoe was checking on Spencer, making sure he didn't have a concussion by checking his eyes.

"Nobody moves, and nobody dies!" Dowd shouted.

Dowd turned to see Zoe, still on the floor, now holding her gun at him, a protective rage glinting in her eyes.

"Better be a head shot." He told Zoe and Hotch, "I got this on full auto. Anything less, I go down squeezing the trigger."

Hotch slowly lowered his gun. Dowd looked at Zoe who still had her gun up.

"Noble-Valdez, stand down."  Hotch said.

Zoe's amber eyes darted back to Dowd, the same rage piercing and then she lowered her gun, moving it so she was holding it out for him.

Dowd kicked the security guard down to his knees and he moved towards Hotch, holding the rifle at him and he picked up Hotch's gun. Then he moved back and took Zoe's from her with her still glaring.

"Get up! Get over here!" He shouted at Zoe and Spencer. Double time, let's go!" Spencer moved across the room with his hands up, awkwardly as usual. Zoe strode past Dowd, giving him a glare.

"You, take your partners' guns, put it on the counter." Dowd told Hotch

"He's not armed." Hotch said but Dowd didn't seem convinced, "See for yourself."

"Hands on your heads."

Spencer, Hotch, and Zoe obeyed, playing their hands on their heads.

Dowd approached Spencer and aggressively yanked Spencer's messenger bag off.

"Hey, easy!" Zoe growled and Dowd pointed his rifle right at her head to shut her up.

He checked Spencer for guns but didn't find any and threw Spencer's

"You. You're the one Landman was talking about. The child doctor."

"Doctor Zoe Noble-Valdez." Zoe sighed, "you want my badge wallet thing too?"

"Nobel-Val... wasn't your mother brutally killed or something? You'll have more than one gun."

Zoe glared at him as she removed the gun from her other hip. Then she lifted her leg with perfect balance and pulled a gun from her ankle and then the other and handed them to Spencer to put on the counter. She pulled two more guns hidden on her upper thighs under her skirt. She pulled another gun, tucked in her front and then one tucked into her side and then the other side, then it turned out she had a double shoulder holster, so two more guns, and one tucked into the small of her back.

"So, he has no gun and you have twelve guns?"

"My family are either in law enforcement or are criminals." Zoe deadpanned. "And my dad's a little paranoid and my mentor is basically a ninja. My mom died when I was a baby, and I was basically raised by the founders of the BAU who see the worst of humanity."

"Anymore?"

"Where else could I possibly be carrying a gun?" She asked.

"Get up, Keith." Dowd said and the security guard he had been using as a human shield got up and Dowd took out zip ties and handed to them, "Put those on them."

Zoe lowered her hands, clenching them so there would be wiggle room and he did the same to Spencer and Hotch.

Zoe was already mentally listing ways of getting out of these zip-ties. She had had plenty of practice. She didn't have enough privacy to use the paracord shoelace as a friction saw or to tighten the zip tie and then thrust it downwards to it forcibly breaks open, not unless Dowd was way stupider than they thought.

Now put them on yourself. Now, step back. Back up. Back up. Back up." Then he hit Keith in the face with the butt of his rifle.

"Hey, there's no need for anyone to get hurt!" Zoe protested.

"Shut up, little girl!" Dowd shouted, pointing the rifle at her but she didn't even blink as he held it to her face. "Get down on the ground."

Spencer sat at once with a wounded puppy dog look in his eyes. "You too, little girl."

"Like I'm not already close enough to it?" She asked, defiantly.

"I will shoot you."

She felt Spencer tug at her pants leg, she didn't see it but he gave her a pleading puppy dog face. She moved her head so her hair got out of her face and all while glaring, she slowly kneeled next to Spencer.

"Have a seat." He said to Hotch who sat in a chair.

“Now what kind of FBI agent doesn’t carry a gun?”

“I’m a profiler.” Spencer said, softly.

“Profiler. They sent you to figure me out. Are you a profiler too, little girl? What are you, fifteen?”

“I’m nineteen. I turn twenty in three days” She said. “I’m a prodigy.”

“Oh yeah?” He sneered, he didn’t like that.

“Yeah. I got my first degree when I was seven. I’ve got twenty-four now. Medical degree when I was seventeen. Joined the academy when I was eighteen.” She said, subtly trying to distract him from everyone else, if he was going to shoot anyone else, she wanted it to be her and if she provoked him enough, he’d aim for the stomach so she would suffer. She could make it.

“What’s your IQ?”

“I never took one. I believe they’re unfair.”

“You probably cheated.”

"Good genes, I guess." She said with a shrug.

"So they sent you three to figure me out?”

“We did. That’s how we found you.” Spencer said.

“Shh. Shut up, Reid.” Hotch said.

"No, don't shut up." Dowd said and Zoe glanced at Hotch and then to the door. "Tell me what you think you know about me."

"Go ahead, genius. Tell him. Tell him. But remember, get it wrong and he's going to kill you." Hotch said, in a patronizing tone to Spencer who had tears stained around his eyes.

Spencer looked up at Dowd and then back down, staring at Zoe's bracelet.

"Okay, you're the boss, you tell me. Who am I? What's my plan?"

"We know you shot eleven people in broad daylight and left us nothing. You executed a cop in front of the FBI and got away clean. And I know your plan is to go down in a hail of bullets."

"What else do you know?"

—————————————————————————————————-

On the other side of the hospital as the police force got their guns ready, Morgan told the rest of the BAU, including a pacing Alexander, about Dowd, "He joined the Army at eighteen. Went to Ranger school. Did six years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it and joined the Arlington PD."

"You were right. He was a cop." JJ said.

"For nine months. When they found out he lied about the discharge, they kicked him out. Soon thereafter, Dowd got his nursing license. He's been bouncing from hospital to hospital ever since." Elle said.

—————————————————————————————————-

"I know you're the smartest guy in every room you've ever been in, and no one's ever known it. People feel threatened by you and try to sabotage you every chance they get. You're not a bad person. You helped save all of your victims afterwards. First guy wasn't your fault. If the EMTs had been there on time, he would've lived." Hotch said, playing into Dowd's fantasy world where he was center of the universe and everyone else was the villain.

"Took those guys thirteen minutes. Thirteen!"

"You want to barricade the door." Hotch suddenly said.

"What?"

"Have me and the kids do it. Let them see you that you've got three FBI agents in here doing your bidding." Hotch said.

"Yeah, right. Let you give them a signal?"

"What signal? They knew you were in here. They knew you were armed. What can I tell them?" Hotch asked.

"What is this? Some sort of profiler trick? New negotiation tactic?" Dowd asked, pointing his gun more so at Hotch.

"You think they'd work on you?" Zoe asked and Dowd looked at her and moved his gun to point down at her, making Spencer flinch and close his eyes tightly for a moment. Unlike Spencer, she didn't look away. She knew she was the most likely person to be shot. She was better known than Spencer and she was everything Dowd hated. "We only use those for those too stupid or delusional."

"Yeah, the barricade's a good idea, though. Now why would you want to help me?"

"I don't."

Dowd seemed to be thinking hard, truly believing he was the smartest in the room. "You said they knew I was in here."

"I said, 'They know you're in here'."

"No. That's not what you said." Dowd said.

"This is gonna get real annoying real quick." Zoe muttered.

"Why does it matter?" Spencer asked.

"It matters because your partner wants to help me even though he doesn't know it. Go ahead, Boss Man. Tell him why. If you lie or leave anything out, pop."

"They knew he was in here. They knew he was armed and dangerous. And they knew that he was gonna fight to the last round. And they sent me in here with a kid who can't shoot his way out of a wet paper bag and a traumatized ADHD Bipolar teenage girl kidnap victim with violent tendencies who only got this job because her daddy who along with her mom who she killed by being born co-founded the BAU, then nine months ago, her daddy begged me to give her this job because her psycho cousin nearly got her killed and then killed a bunch of other people.”

“Oh, your daddy got you this job. No wonder you have so many degrees.” Dowd mocked Zoe and then turned to Hotch. "They set you up."

"Exactly, and they're probably laughing about it right now." Hotch spat.

"And that's why you want to help me."

"I wouldn't say I want to help you. But when they come in here to get revenge for the cop you killed, you're gonna go down fighting. And in the crossfire, a lot of us are going to die. They sent me in here, I figure why make it easy for them?"

—————————————————————————————————

Gideon walked up to Weigart, "Please don't send your men in yet."

"You have to consider the possibility that your agents are dead, or at least disarmed." Weigart said.

"Agent Hotchner is a very experienced profiler. He's gonna do whatever he has to do to get Dowd to like, trust, respect him. And... And once he does, he will get Dowd to end this peacefully. I... I just ask you to give him time.

"Dowd has already shot ten people. He killed a cop!" Weigart argued.

The cop is dead. This man is a violent, deranged paranoid. It's a game. He's gonna—He's gonna do whatever he has to. You send your men in, they're just gonna become villains in his little hero fantasy. You're letting him call all the shots.

"How are your unarmed agents going to stop him?" Weigart asked.

"They're not unarmed. They have his profile. They understand him. Zoe will make sure no innocents get shot, if anyone is shot, chances are it will be her before anyone else."

"Unfortunately." Alexander said, appearing beside Gideon whose face looked as if he had aged ten years, "Since she was a child, I've been teaching her how to use that profile against them and that's how she has survived.

"Three minutes, and my men are ready to take the ER. Your agents have three minutes."

"My daughter has done the impossible is less than three minutes." Alexander nodded, confidently. She came back, didn't she? Alexander always thought of Zoe as completing the impossible. Three minutes before all his hope was gone until he found out his daughter did the impossible and survived. All in three minutes. That's how long it can take.

—————————————————————————————————-

“You know why they took away boy genius' gun?” Hotch asked.

“Why?”

“He failed his qualification. Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about re-qualifying, so I tutor him, and he fails again.” Hotch said, Zoe edged her zip-tied hands to Spencer’s and took his hand.

“You think you've got it rough? These people have done nothing but undermine me since I got here."

“Put them next to the barricade. That way, when they blast their way in here both of our problems are solved. That sort of thing could ruin a cop's career.”

“You are one sick dude.” Dowd chuckled.

“How do you think we found you?” Zoe said, darkly.

"You've been awfully quiet, Landman said you wouldn't shut up. I want to know what you think of my profile."

"We've never caught someone like you with a profile." She skirted.

"You've never profiled a sniper?"

"No, I've profiled tons of snipers. But you're not a sniper. A sniper is a professional marksman with training including the ability to not sleep for seventy-two hours and still focus and fantasy integration. I have that training. You don't. We call you a 'Long Distance Serial Killer' or a LDSK."

"You have sniper training."

"I have more training than you could imagine. Why do you think I carry twelve guns?" Thirteen.

Hotch's jaw was clenched. He knew what she was doing. She had one hidden gun left. He knew where. Zoe was trying to spare Spencer from doing this. She had already taken her first life when she was thirteen in self-defense. She had been slowly riling up Dowd so he'd want her to suffer.

"Take off the bracelet!" Dowd suddenly shouted, Zoe hadn't realized her moon bracelet had been making noises and when he grabbed for the bracelet the zip-ties she had wiggled out of fell the floor.

There was a long moment of silence before Zoe moved, yanking out a small gun stashed in a place a guy would fear to see a gun most, tucked into her bra from beneath. She could save Spencer from doing this.

But Dowd was quicker, her comments worked, and he shot her in the stomach. There was the whistling noise of a silence rifle sounded followed by soft clatter of her gun to the floor. She barely flinched when the bullet pierced her skin, only a slight movement from the sudden force.

Being shot was different than being tortured where the goal had been not to kill her but to test her limits. When she was tortured, she was acutely aware of everything they were doing that she had to force herself to go somewhere else

Her body went numb with shock, she didn't feel pain at first, just the pressure but the pain quickly joined in, becoming blindingly painful, well it would for a normal person, but her pain threshold was high. She looked down at her midriff to see a growing spot of blood.

Her brain kicked into overtime as she mentally recounted the facts and time slowed down to her, the hospital room melting away.

A symptom she experiences due to her... honestly, she wasn't sure, could just be her high intelligence and ability to dissociate or some side effect of some disorder associated from the prolonged and repeated traumas she experienced, but she had hallucinations. They only happened when she’s stressed, sleep-deprived, low on sugar or caffeine, drugged, traumatized, or especially emotionally vulnerable. 

The hallucinations both help and haunt her. She would hallucinate her mother when in captivity, inspiring her to be strong. Sometimes, she felt her instincts for her surroundings came to her in hallucinations warning her. Sometimes, she would see them just staring at her.

Now, she saw Spencer Reid in a white medical coat and Zarah. She knew it was Zarah from the clothing and higher pitch.

“One of the many errors in television and movies is what it’s like to be shot with a bullet.” Spencer said, his hair was different, it was better, it was all curly and short. It looked fluffy, Zoe wanted to run her hand through it, but Zarah grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around in her mind.

“You know the answer to this because you’ve seen this happen again and again. It didn’t go through you.” Zarah said.

“You were shot with a sniper gun at close range through several layers of customized body armor at close range. There was resistance so the likelihood of it going fully through is low. The bullet is blocking most of the blood flow. Any more pressure on the entrance than needed could dislodge it and cause you to bleed out. You need to fall on your back, so gravity works in your favor. The bullet's likely only a few inches in so the likelihood of your survival given Hotch and I take down this UnSub are also in your favor."

Her hallucinations faded away and then she was falling, she hit the floor hard on her back, her hands over her forming wound. It wasn't as deep as it could've been. Her body armor saved her but if Dowd knew that he'd keep shooting. She remained oddly calm for someone who had been shot. It wasn’t the first time by the way.

Spencer's immediate instinct was to help her, but Dowd shouted, "DON'T MOVE!"

"You shot her!" Spencer shouted.

“So she’ll die. Did he signal you? Did you signal her?" He was talking about Hotch as he held the rifle to Zoe's head.

"No..." Zoe said, her voice still strong for someone who was shot, "He didn't signal anything to me. To be honest, I barely take orders from him. I only take orders from my dad. I don't even listen to him. I'm usually the smartest person in the room. I guess, I met my match." She feigned faintness and lowered herself to lie flat and she made apologetic eye contact with Hotch and then Spencer.

"ANYONE ELSE WANT TO PLAY HERO!" He roared, clearly enjoying the fake defeat she gave him.

Spencer tried to stop the bleeding, but Zoe kept pushing his hands away and she kept muttering in a softer voice than usual, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Lo lamento. Lo siento mucho."

—————————————————————————————————-

"Time's up! Ready teams for assault." Weigart shouted now that there was another gunshot.

—————————————————————————————————

"Can I ask you a favor?" Hotch asked.

"You can ask." Dowd said.

"I figure the chances of my getting out of here alive are pretty slim." Hotch said, "Even more so that Noble's daughter is dying."

"So?"

"You already shot the rebel who can’t listen to a word I say. I want to kick the snot out of this kid." Zoe said something in Aztec in protest but groaned when she tried to get her and was ignored. "He's made my life miserable for two lousy years."

"Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Hotch pushed Spencer down, aggressively.

Hotch kicked Spencer over and over which Zoe found to be more painful than the gunshot wound.  Each sound that came from Spencer made her flinch more than being shot by the bullet.

“How smart are you now, smart guy? It's front sight!” Another kick to the gut. “Trigger press!” Another kick. “Follow through! It's not that hard! A dalmatian could do it!” Spencer grasped Hotch’s leg to seemingly stop him from kicking him. “Let go. Let go!”

Spencer coughed and moaned in pain, turning away from them and to the desk, next to Zoe.

Zoe looked at Spencer, muttering something in Spanish though she had been doing that sporadically.

"Feel better?" Dowd asked.

"I think he got the message." Hotch said.

Dowd smirked and looked at Spencer’s near-fetal position as he turned his poor, aching body to Zoe who seemed to be in a delirious state from blood loss already and was muttering in Spanish. Then his eyes drifted to an empty ankle holster on Hotch's ankle and his smirk fell at once.

"What's that?" He demanded, Hotch looked back up at him and then Dowd pointed the rifle at Hotch and Spencer pulled Hotch's gun out and shot Dowd square in the head.

Once Dowd was down, he went to Zoe's side as Hotch went to calm down the police before they came in guns a-blazing.

Zoe lifted her knee up and reached for her boot.

"What-what are you doing?" Spencer asked, softly.

Zoe pulled something out of her boot, a small knife and she used it to cut Spencer's zip-ties.

Alexander came bolting in, screaming, "ANGEL!" Before finding her bleeding on the ground as Spencer and a nurse used a gauze to fill in the wound until they could get her the proper medical assistance. “OH MY GOD!”

"Move! Move!" Alexander pleaded, actually smacking his bleeding out daughter's hands away from the wound to check to see if it had hit anything vital which made her shout Spanish at him, having a flashback which he had dealt with for years now.

“No... stop! Sweetheart! Angel! Stop cursing!” He shouted as she continued to swear in Spanish at her.

She finally stopped and fell back on her back and grabbed at her jacket.

Alexander helped take off her jacket and shouted, "WHAT'S THE BLOODY POINT OF BEING IN A HOSPITAL IF NO ONE'S MAKIGN SURE MY DAUGHTER DOESN'T DIE FROM HER OWN STUBBORNNESS!"

A fellow nurse lifted Zoe's moon printed shirt, but no skin showed. Just black fabric with a black zipper, wet with blood but the back of the bullet was clearly poke out of it, meaning it wasn't very deep in her stomach.

"What's this?" Spencer asked.

"Body armor..." Zoe grunted out. "Customized body armor. Light. Durable. Level three polyethylene and steel alloy..."

"That's my girl." He smiled affectionately at her before screaming for a doctor to do something useful for once.

"Can I make one request? Don't let Landman perform the surgery, either that or I insist on being awake to criticize him..."

Zoe’s head lolled to the side, and she felt Spencer place a hand on her cheek, her half-lid eyes spotted a bittersweet smile on his lips.

—————————————————————————————————-

Shakespeare wrote, "Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable."

Spencer watched as they wheeled Dowd’s body through the hall due to the open door of Zoe’s hospital room after the emergency bullet removal surgery which was actually fairly quick since Zoe was wearing bullet resistant clothing with a titanium and Kevlar alloy, only going in a couple inches, barely making it through her muscles.

Hotch came in.

“How’s she doing?”

“Really well apparently. Despite insisting to be awake during the surgery to criticize Landman’s work.” Spencer said and Hotch managed a smile, not expecting anything less of Zoe.

“You alright?”

Spencer nodded, “Probably better than you’ll be when she wakes up or when her dad finds out what you said.”

“Yeah,” Hotch chuckled, “Nice shot.”

“I was aiming for his leg.” Spencer joked.

“Well, I wouldn't have kept kicking you, I was afraid you didn't get my plan.” Hotch explained, feeling bad.

“I got your plan the minute you moved the hostages out of my line of fire.” Spencer confirmed, “Pretty sure, Zoe here got your plan at once.”

“Well, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly.”

“Hotch, I was a twelve-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. You kick like a nine-year-old girl.” Spencer teased. He smiled and tried to hand Hotch his gun back.

“Nah. Keep it. As far as I'm concerned, you've passed your qualification.” Hotch said.

“You’re not mad that Zoe tried to shoot him and got herself shot?” Spencer asked.

“She’s taken a life before. More than anyone her age should. You haven’t. She was trying to protect you. It’s not hard to deduce that she’ll never fail to do that. I just hoped the shot wouldn’t be fatal. But she’s a survivor, if I ever met one."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe awoke to see a relieved-looking Spencer and she gave him a sleepy smile.

“Hey, hotshot.” He teased.

“Hey, Spence.” She hummed, sleepily.

“The doctors said you’d be fine. Your dad said you were too reckless for you own good and your cousin said you were idiotic but…”

"She's not here, is she?"

"No. But she called your dad a bunch of times and then screamed at him so loudly, it was like she was on speaker phone." Spencer said. "And then some Scottish woman was on the phone a few minutes later, screaming just as loudly."

"My aunt Isobel." She said, "Why are you here?"

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what? I was the one too stupid to realize what Hotch was trying to hint at.” She played dumb.

He shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You got it. You took that risk so I wouldn’t have to make that shot. You were trying to spare me from killing him.”

“Being the daughter of two FBI agents, I’m not sure I’ve ever been innocent. But you are. You still are. I took my first kill when I was thirteen. It was self-defense. And it was my crazy uncle. I know it’s inevitable with this job but I was just trying to keep you like that for as long as I could. But it changes you."

“I think I like Zoe on painkillers. She’s much less sarcastic.” He said, stroking her hair, absent-mindedly.

“No, I’m rather tolerant of the psychological effects of painkillers.” She drawled, "And I hate them."

Alexander came in, "Angel, your cousin wants to talk to you." It was clear he was tired at being screamed at in languages he didn't speak.

Zoe took the phone her father was shoving into her face. "Hey, Maze."

Spencer smiled at Zoe and went to leave. Outside, he ran into Morgan who was concerned over Spencer's wellbeing.

"Reid, you all right?" He asked and Spencer just unpocketed the whistle Morgan had given him and tossed it to Morgan. Morgan chuckled and said, "Touché, kid."

—————————————————————————————————-

Zoe was deemed well enough to fly back home; she slept in the chair next to Spencer as he watched her carefully as her chest came up and down. Gideon walked up to them, and Spencer cleared his throat, acting as if he hadn't been watching Zoe nap.

"How you doing?"

"You and Zoe were right." Spencer said, "You don't need a gun to kill somebody."

Gideon looked down at Zoe and subconsciously adjusted the blanket Alexander had put on her and that Spencer had kept trying to keep on her as she kept moving in her sleep and then Gideon sat in the seat across

Gideon sat in the seat across from Spencer, "No, you don't."

"But it helps." Spencer finished.

"Yes... It does."

"I... I know I should feel bad about what happened. I mean, I killed a man. You know, I should feel something. But I don't." Spencer confessed, worried.

“Zoe said the same thing first time she took a life.” Gideon said, recalling Zoe’s state when she was thirteen. Granted that was to protect her sister. “Not knowing what you feel, that's not the same as not feeling anything. This is gonna hit ya, and when it does, there's only three facts you need to know. You did what you had to do, and a lot of good people are alive because of what you did."

"What's the third?" Spencer asked.

"I'm proud of you."

—————————————————————————————————-

Translations:

“Lo lamento. Lo siento mucho.” —  Spanish —“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Notes: Empedocles was a Greek pre-Socratic philosopher, an eccentric genius for his time as he discovered that light travels at a speed; the Earth is a sphere; centrifugal force, and air is a substance, not an absence of a substance (his main belief was that matter was composed of four elements: fire, air, water, and Earth); an (admittedly very crude) theory of evolution, and the Italian school of medicine. However, by eccentric you could also mean, straight-up crazy as Empedocles believed he was a god (while I’m not sure what kind of god, but one report on cracked.com describes it as “literal thunderbolts-from-the -sky and immortality sense) and to prove his immortality, he jumped into the at the time dormant volcano called Mount Etna. Obviously, he didn’t survive. At least, this is allegedly what happened as records don’t really go that far back but there could also be other reasons he allegedly did this, another version of the story is that Empedocles jumped into the volcano to prove his immortality to his disciples, believing that he would be reborn as a god after being consumed by the flames (even though volcanoes don’t have flames, they have lava and magma).

I hope this wasn’t too bad. I always intended for Zoe to be shot. It demonstrates her loyalty and need to protect people, especially Spencer but also Spencer killing Dowd demonstrates that he feels the same kind of protectiveness over Zoe.

*(Edited/Added) Zoe's hallucinations are supposed to be akin to BBC Sherlock Holmes' to some extent. One part because of her extraordinary brain, part due to her various mental illnesses (see blow), part of her trauma and the coping mechanisms she formed during her trauma, and part of her guilt.

(Now, don’t get me wrong, I did my research via short Google searches, and the first info I see without clicking usually. Hallucinations are not a typical symptom of ADHD but a possible side effect of the stimulant drugs used to treat ADHD in children. According to the AI overview, "According to the FDA, between one and two out of every 100 children who take ADHD drugs for a year may experience a drug-related psychotic event, which can include hallucinations. Common hallucinations include seeing insects, snakes, or worms, or feeling bugs or worms crawling on the skin.” Which gross!! I have never had that. I mean, I used to be convinced that bugs would be digging into my skin but I think that was more me not understanding what itching was and with ADHD especially with children, senses can be enhanced compared to the neurotypical’s which is called hypersensitivity. And I once saw a giant black and gray snake at my dad’s mom’s place in the middle of the woods after I walked out of the most likely unlocked cabin that strangers frequently drove past and according to my mom’s side of the family (so a bit bias) it could’ve been poisonous. But that doesn't matter)

According to AI overview, Hallucinations are not typically a symptom of cyclothymic disorder, also known as cyclothymia, during hypomania episodes. Hypomania is a "high" that can range from mild to severe, but it doesn't include psychotic features like hallucinations or delusions. However, hallucinations can occur during manic episodes of cyclothymia.

Now, Zoe is frequently being described as traumatized, this is true and she does have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which can cause visual and auditory hallucinations, I’m getting mixed results on whether it’s always related to the trauma you experienced or sometimes not. (And most of them are talking about PTSD because I think C-PTSD either isn’t as researched or it’s PTSD but more–I’m sorry if that offends someone, what I mean is it's PTSD but for more events.)

Now, Zoe has undiagnosed high-functioning borderline personality disorder due to her trauma and this is probably the disorder I’m most anxious to write because this is described as one of the most painful disorders to live with and I have no idea what that’s like. Research says that 26 to 54% of people with BPD (I’m not sure if that includes high-functioning or not) experience hallucinations and can be present for long periods of time.

Now, in Zoe’s eight months, she was frequently being drugged with something stronger than morphine, I won’t give spoilers just yet unless I accidentally already have I just don’t remember, which is possible, but because of that and this fact, she was nearly always… blindfolded, not quite the right word but her vision was nearly always obscured so she had to rely on her other senses, luckily Maze had been training her with like ninja-like lessons since she was like four or however young you think you could train a super genius child already traumatized from her mother’s torture and death before she was even born because she’s a super genius.

I feel like hallucinations and delusions are fueled by personality traits and past trauma or past in general or… I don’t know quite how to say it. My idea is that Zoe’s hallucinations are linked to her instincts which are a very big part of her. She trusts her instincts more than she trusts her impulses, but I’m not quite sure how to categorize that or I’m just realizing what instincts are exactly. So, Zoe’s hallucinations happen in situations of great stress like being shot and she herself has developed a mind palace of sorts so she can assess the situation, but also they are linked to her instincts which are quite a bit above an average FBI agent’s instincts and her hallucinations can act as warnings to her.

I hope this makes some sense, I was trying to show that I have put a lot of thought into this and I tried looking up why Sherlock Holmes has hallucinations or how he can see things, maybe it’s part of his mental illness, or drug problem, or just the Mind Palace but I can’t find any answers to my direct question.

[bakerstreetbabble]

Sherlock Gnomes: my expanded review for IHearofSherlock.com

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a brief review of the 2018 film Sherlock Gnomes, and animated take on the legendary detective (as well as a sequel to an earlier animated feature, an animated version of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, called Gnomeo & Juliet). Shortly after I wrote that review, I offered to expand it a bit and submit it to I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere. They posted my expanded review today. I've copied it below.

"...scrambling over your garden wall." (EMPT)

Several years ago (in 2011, to be exact), when my older daughter was a lot smaller, we watched a fairly humorous children's film adaptation of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, entitled Gnomeo and Juliet. I remember how, as a five year-old, she was entertained, and there were enough tongue-in-cheek Shakespeare references to keep me interested as well.

As you can imagine, the “star-crossed lovers” do not take their own lives at the end, as the target audience would likely find such a thing a bit traumatic. Still, the animation was pretty good, the soundtrack was fun, and there was a very entertaining bit with Patrick Stewart as a statue of the Bard himself.

In March 2018, a sequel to Gnomeo and Juliet was released, this time a spoof on Sherlock Holmes: the title of this new gnomish adventure was—you guessed it—Sherlock Gnomes. The film is part sequel, involving the characters of Gnomeo and Juliet in new adventures, but it is also (of course) a spoof of some of our favorite Sherlock Holmes characters. In fact, the film starts out with a funny little bit where a few gnomes argue about which story they’ll tell next (“Game of Gnomes! Or The Gnome Ranger!”).  

Sherlock Gnomes (voiced by Johnny Depp) is a garden gnome detective (that is, a detective who happens to be a garden gnome), who is sworn to protect all of London's garden gnomes. He finds himself pitted against his old archenemy, Moriarty: a sort of "Bob's Big Boy" type of pie mascot (don't ask). 

Sherlock is a kind of self-absorbed character, who doesn't treat his sidekick Watson with the respect he deserves. Of course, this is a subject that has been explored in other Holmes films and spoofs. (The Holmes/Watson relationship in the Guy Ritchie films, or the spoof Without a Clue, both spring to my mind.)

Their paths cross those of Gnomeo and Juliet, who are attempting to improve the garden of the house they’ve just moved to, when their fellow garden gnomes are abducted by the evil Moriarty. Or are they? Sherlock Gnomes hears of that abduction and many more around London, and…the game is afoot!

Honestly, I found the film pretty entertaining. Depp was not the best Holmes I've ever seen (well...heard), while Chiwetel Ejiofor voices Watson with great subtlety and dignity. There were all kinds of goofy nods towards the Sherlock Holmes canon: Doyle's Doll Museum, Wisteria Lodge Florist Shop, a grating with "221B" on it, while Sherlock and Juliet encounter a "fierce" pug dog, which Mr. Gnomes calls "the Hound owned by the Baskervilles."

One character even delivers the entertaining line, “No ship, Sherlock!” And of course, there's the obligatory deerstalker cap, Inverness cape, and magnifying glass.

In a little homage to the BBC's Sherlock, perhaps, Mr. Gnomes occasionally retreats into a "mind palace" of sorts, with a completely different style of animation for those sequences (it looks like black and white cel animation, although I suspect it is still done mostly with computers). One little animation detail that I thought was odd: Sherlock Gnomes has a tiny little white beard on the tip of his chin! I think this was probably the only bearded Holmes I’ve ever seen on film. Not that a beard that small is really deserving of the name...

The voice cast is a panoply of celebrities: James McAvoy (Gnomeo), Emily Blunt (Juliet), Michael Caine (Lord Redbrick), Maggie Smith (Lady Bluebury), Mary J. Blige (Irene), and many more. Even Ozzy Osbourne has a brief role, as a somewhat befuddled ceramic fawn.

The animation is quite high quality, and the aforementioned "mind palace" sequences were bizarre and fun. The story is packed with enough action and silly humor to keep children entertained, while there are enough pop culture references sprinkled throughout to keep adults from being completely bored.

As mentioned above, Sherlockians will no doubt be amused by canonical references here and there. The plot as a few fun little twists, so the movie isn’t as predictable as some animated feautres can be. As a Holmes fan, I found it enjoyable enough, if not incredibly brilliant. The film only received a 28% on film review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes, but I've seen much poorer films with higher scores.

If you have young children, you could do a lot worse. Or if you’d simply like to indulge in 90 minutes of innocent fun, it’s worth a few laughs. Oh, and did I mention that most of the soundtrack is made up of Elton John songs? (One of the film companies that produced the film was founded by Elton John, so it’s no surprise.)

I would give the film 4 Calabash Pipes on a 5-Pipe scale.

[meeedeee]

Incredible Thoughts [vid]

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV)

No Archive Warnings Apply

Sherlock Holmes

Philip Anderson

James Moriarty

John Watson

Henry Knight

Toby the Dog (Sherlock Holmes)

Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes)

Stella Hopkins

Dimmock (Sherlock)

Fanvids

Humor

Fandom Trumps Hate

Sherlock's Mind Palace

"Enjoy a witty, smart, clever show that's obnoxiously aware of how witty, smart, and clever it is." --Honest Trailers

(Feed generated with FetchRSS) source https://archiveofourown.org/works/42549042

[ebaeschnbliah]

THE  DOGS  IN  SHERLOCK'S  MIND PALACE

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

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

WOLFHOUND     RIDGEBACK     HOUND DOG

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Rhodesian Ridgeback

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

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

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

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

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

The Irish Wolfhound

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The meaning of 'hound dog'

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

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

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

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

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

Watch that performance here if you like.  :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hound ... dog ...

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

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

February, 2018

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

[annesthaeticc]

Puppy Luv | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

Puppy Luv | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

| just a good ole fluffy fic

| JUST FLUFF AND PUPPIES

| 1971 words

| While on a case, Sherlock Holmes stumbles upon a new friend. And hopefully your new friend. He brings her home and fluff ensues.

| NOTE: as i've said, the devil works hard, but i work harder. kidding. i made this for my friend cause she loves dogs and i know she love golden retrievers, cause kate bishop has a golden retriever friend. ANYWAY, i hope u enjoy this feel-good piece. comments, hearts, and REBLOGS mean the world to me.

Sherlock and John were crouched down on the floor, taking whatever they could on the corpse that was brutally murdered. The Scotland Yard team were somewhere in the cramped building, buzzing about outside the door. It was like déjà vu; Lestrade was wearing a protective gear, and John too. Said doctor was taking down notes, quietly mumbling to himself. Lestrade was by door, his arms crossed and his face looked quite aged. If the Detective Inspector was going to be honest at all, this new serial murder case ages him every day, as if another year was added to his fortysomething age.

The consulting detective was busy deducing everything from the dead man’s body. Murder wasn’t the word to describe it; it was vicious. There was blood everywhere and Sherlock figured the serial killer’s go-to weapon is an ice pick. His mind was buzzing. High-speed deductions flying through his mind. But his train of thought was broken when he heard a sound.

“Shut up.” he muttered under his breath.

“What? I didn’t say anything.” John replied, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“What’s that noise?” he asked, suddenly standing up.

“What noise?” Lestrade butted in.

“Tell your men to keep it down, will you Detective Inspector? I can hear something…” he said, now starting to pace about in the room. Lestrade obliged and the murmurs from the other side of the door died down.

It was a very distinct sound. Quite familiar. A sound that resided somewhere in the basement of mind palace. He was sure he heard it before.

He walked around, trying to place where the sound could be coming from. When he stepped on an uneven floorboard, it squeaked and the sound started to become clear. He knelt down and pried of the loose floorboard, and there he saw the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes on; aside from you of course.

It was a puppy.

His fur was golden and his eyes were dark. But in the little creature’s eyes, he saw fear and excitement shine through. His heart beat sped up and he gulped, not knowing what to do. Should he pick it up? Should he get the team inside and rescue the dog? When the two of them made eye contact, Sherlock decided. He was going to keep him.

“What is it?” John asked, joining him.

“It’s a, uh…” Sherlock was a loss for words.

“Oh that’s adorable. Should we get the rescue team in here?” John asked.

“No!” Sherlock answered defensively and John was taken back.

“Alright take it easy, mate.” Lestrade said, approaching him and patted his back.

Sherlock ducked down and scooped the little golden retriever carefully, nestling it in his coat-clad arms. The little puppy wasn’t aggressive at all, but it was shivering in fear. Sherlock knows it all too well. Suddenly, his memories with his beloved best friend, Redbeard, resurfaced. A dam of emotion started to burst through him as the little puppy scooted closer to him, craving his attention and affection. He masked his excitement, joy, and other emotions he can’t name, with his usual stony expression.

The two men watched the detective, a ‘what the fuck?’ expression painted on their faces.

“Come on, John.” Sherlock said, starting to walk to the exit.

“What? We’re going to leave now?”

“Yes! Come on! I’m getting in the cab with or without you.” he said, the puppy barked and Sherlock smiled.

Sherlock smiled. What the fuck is going on? John thought to himself.

“Sherlock! What about the case?” Greg’s voice boomed.

“I’ll text you details, Gary. I’ll take this little one to the shelter.” he said, his voice trailing off. John sighed and kept up with his friend.

“We’re not going to the shelter.” John said.

“Correct deduction, doctor. No, we’re going home.” Sherlock replied, giving him a small smile and cradling the puppy in his arms.

Excitement was bubbling through Sherlock when he climbed the steps to 221B, the puppy radiating the same energy as him. You weren’t sure if you heard it right. You furrowed your brow as you drank your tea, finishing the last drops. When Sherlock finally stepped in the flat, your eyes were wide as saucers and your mouth was agape. You stood there frozen against the kitchen counter when Sherlock made his way towards you, approaching you with the little golden mass in his arms. He stepped in front of you, held the little puppy in his hands, showing it to you like a little boy showing his new teddy bear. Sherlock’s grin reached his eyes, shining with mirth. He was unmistakably happy with his new friend.

“That’s uh…” you stuttered at a loss for words.

“Y/N, meet my new friend, Callie.” he said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. Callie, the little golden pup agreed with a bark and you flinched.

“Come on, you can hold her.” Sherlock suggested, holding Callie out to you.

“Oh uh, um, uh I’m going to be late, darling…” you said, moving away.

“You’re scared of dogs.” he said and let the Callie down on the ground, letting her toddle around the flat.

“Uh, yes I am.”

“Why?”

“It’s stupid.” you sighed and your eyes started to widen in alarm as Callie made her way towards you.

“Oh please, I’ll be the judge of that.” he rolled his eyes to you and smirked when Callie started to sniff the hem of your trousers.

“When I was little, my friend and I were going to the fields to play when suddenly a dog, a rabid one by the way, attacked my friend and bit her butt.” you explained.

“Oh yeah, that sounds stupid… and made up.” Sherlock chuckled and walked closer to you.

“My friend died.” you firmly said.

“Oh…” Sherlock tried to find the words to reply but nothing came up, only a smirk started to grow on his lips.

“I hate you.” you glared at him.

“No you don’t, you love me.” Sherlock hummed and held your hand.

“I’m not so sure about that right now.” you said and glanced down at the little pup, you gulped.

“Oh come on, Callie’s a good girl, she won’t hurt you. Plus, she can be our little love child…” he said, the last words fading.

“Our what?!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“Never mind that. You’re going to be late, you said?” he said planted a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He abruptly left your space after that.

“Come on, Callie, time for treats.” he said, his voice echoing through the room, Callie followed him and barked.

You watched the scene unfold; Sherlock Holmes, your boyfriend, the consulting detective with the reputation of being a cocky and know it all bastard, play and feed the little puppy like a little boy. It made your heart skip a beat to see him so happy, but there was still fear present in you. You still remember the day you ran back to your house sobbing with your friend next to you, limping and screaming in pain. With one last glance, you left the flat to go to work.

When you arrived from work that night, you saw Sherlock sitting on his seat; his fingers steepled and resting under chin. But you weren’t used to having a little puppy sleeping on his lap. Obviously in his mind palace, you let him be and quietly puttered about the flat. With a cup of tea, you sought comfort in John’s old chair and picked up your book. Every now and then you would glance at the man and his little friend, and every now and then you can’t help the frown that crossed your face.

“Stop glaring at her. It’s not her fault, Y/N.” his voice rumbled.

“I know.” you sighed defeatedly and slumped back. Deciding there’s no point in staying up since you have work early tomorrow morning, you stood up and planted a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek and bid him goodnight. Sherlock soon followed, curling up next to you. The next morning, you found the Callie by the end of the bed, sleeping soundly.

The weeks passed in a blur. Sherlock was overjoyed with his new furry companion, however you, you were still cautious. You paid Callie little attention and it didn’t bother her that much, it was Sherlock’s attention she loves most. But she still tries. She approaches you, and brings you her treats so you’d overcome your fear.

Speaking of Sherlock’s attention to Callie, it was really obvious that he was taken by the little creature. He was really happy but he hoped that you’d be happy too with Callie, all he wants is for her girls to get along. Which was not going well. You were sitting across him, reading your journal when he broke the silence. He was peering into his microscope when he said, “You know, we both had traumatic experiences with dogs.”

“Oh?” you looked up at him, he certainly got your interest.

“I had one when I was little. Redbeard was his name and he was my best friend.” he said, still staring at the microscope.

“What happened to him?” you asked.

“He disappeared. I think he drowned, I don’t know…” he said, his voice fading.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m sorry.” you said and moved towards him, sitting next to him.

“I just try to remember the good times. There were a lot and I remember them whenever I play or whenever I’m with Callie. And I’m scared sometimes, you know? I’m afraid I might lose her just like I lost Redbeard.” he said, sentiment clear and loud in his voice.

“Maybe that’s what you need. You need to get over your fear, Y/N, and just enjoy her and make new memories with her.” he said and finally looked at you. He gave you kiss on the cheek and stood up. He left with Callie, intending to stay in the park that afternoon.

One day, Sherlock was out with John, solving a case. You were left in the flat with Callie as your companion. You planned the day ahead, starting with breakfast with cleaning your closet next. Breakfast done and kitchen cleaned, Callie followed you around the flat. You entered your shared bedroom with Sherlock with Callie behind you. You opened the closet and set on cleaning it; separating clothes that still fit you and clothes that didn’t. Callie was rolling around the pile of clothes and a laugh escaped your lips, terribly amused by her. You were busying yourself; folding your shirts when something nudged your thigh. You turn to look at Callie, a green beanie hanging off her mouth. You chuckled and grasped it, prying it off her mouth when a bright idea popped into your head. You held it and gently put it on her head. She yipped and barked and started to jump around.

Sherlock was right.

Sherlock was in the middle of explaining the case to Lestrade when his phone beeped. He halted his stream of deductions and opened his phone to see he received a message from you. Alarmed that something must be wrong, he quickly swiped it open only to reveal something unexpected.

When Sherlock arrived that night, his voice boomed through the halls of 221B. “I take it my girls are getting along splendidly?” he said when he saw you and Callie in kitchen. You were sitting on the kitchen bench, working on your laptop, with Callie sleeping on your lap, still wearing the green beanie. You beam up at him in agreement, and he planted a kiss on your head.

“I love you.” he whispered.

“No, you love our love child more.” you giggled.

“True, but I love you the most.” he replied and sat beside you. Sherlock smiled to himself, content and truly happy.

[ MASTERLIST ] [ JOIN MY TAGLIST ] [ BUY ME A KO-FI ]

TAGLIST: @migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @srapalestina

( hope ur doing well safe !! all the love from anne <3 )