Good Evening, Wilder.

I just realized that in this godforsaken scene:

When Sherlock says “I think it could work”

He’s saying ”I think the name Sherlock Watson could work”

And then John, still laughing, realizes what he just heard and does a sort of puzzled look back up at Sherlock:

And Sherlock just:

Sherlock’s reverencial silence.

As if this moment wasn’t already painful enough, I wanted to relive it from Sherlock’s pov. Look at the reverencial way in which he watches John make such intimate confession. Live those eternal seconds of silence from Sherlock’s perspective and tell me he doesn’t treat John’s feelings with the outmost respect, patience and understanding. He gives John the time and space he needs, watchful for the right moment to step in to offer him comfort.

“Apparently, the deceased had liked candles. And long baths. I’m not judging. There’s a possibility I might enjoy a long bath myself occasionally. When Sherlock was alive I did a lot of running and fighting and sometimes I needed to relax and recuperate. And a bath is good for that. […] People might laugh. People did laugh when Sherlock told them I enjoyed having baths but I was fine with it. I’m still fine with it. Baths are good.”

And Sherlock sez:

“Your flatmate likes long baths. As does mine.

[…] and the murderer contacts my assistant because he thinks he’s cleverer than me and wants to show off a bit. Which I can understand. I like showing off. Who doesn’t?“ 

Take the first meal Sherlock and John share together at Angelo’s, where Angelo insists that the pair must have a candle for their table:

It seems like sort of a “joke” in a way–something that could easily be brushed off if we didn’t all know that TJLC is real. And the candle thing continues to be a theme. Illumination itself is a subtle theme throughout the show, with all the color-coded lights and the fact that Sherlock dubs John his “conductor of light” in “The Hounds of Baskerville.”

I noticed something recently when watching what is surely one of the favorite scenes of all Johnlockers: the reunion of Sherlock and John at The Landmark in the episode “The Empty Hearse.” This is the night Sherlock returns, supposedly from the dead, and interrupts John’s (rather lackluster) attempt to propose to his girlfriend Mary in a rather half-hearted effort to, in his own words, “move on” from Sherlock.

Notice anything missing from John and Mary’s table?

There’s a lamp, sure, but no candle. Maybe that isn’t terribly unusual. But look at the other tables in the restaurant:

Most have candles.

It doesn’t stop there. When Sherlock catches his first (heart-stopping; you can clearly see that in his face, just as it has been pointed out that if you isolate certain audio tracks in this part here you can hear Sherlock’s thudding pulse) glimpse of John after two years away…

how does he see him?

There is a candle placed strategically between them, clearly visible from Sherlock’s vantage point.

This isn’t the only throwback to Angelo’s on this night. If more is needed, I’m including this little bonus below. The writers have done this *so many times,* where certain words and phrases come back again. It isn’t an accident and it isn’t lazy writing. We’re talking about the combined efforts of two very good writers here, and though John’s nerves on this night aren’t exactly hard to pick up on, we get this cherry strategically placed on top:

I SUGGEST YOU DON’T MARRY MARY. 

because if he starts, sherlock will start, and they’ll both just melt

so i did this 

Sherlock gently holding his violin and brushing against his edges, stroking his arm like a bow upon string while wrapping his hand around his neck, placing him under his chin, knowing all the right notes to play (and words to say).

The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become one of them. As an institution I was like the violin, the shag tobacco, the old black pipe, the index books, and others perhaps less excusable. When it was a case of active work and a comrade was needed upon whose nerve he could place some reliance, my role was obvious. But apart from this I had uses. I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. He liked to think aloud in my presence. His remarks could hardly be said to be made to me – many of them would have been as appropriately addressed to his bedstead – but none the less, having formed the habit, it had become in some way helpful that I should register and interject. If I irritated him by a certain methodical slowness in my mentality, that irritation served only to make his own flame-like intuitions and impressions flash up the more vividly and swiftly. Such was my humble role in our alliance.