can somebody tell me what the hell is going on. I've checked my extensions, deleted what I hadn't put there, deleted what I've recently installed. But I can't get rid of it.
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@observingxdeducing
can somebody tell me what the hell is going on. I've checked my extensions, deleted what I hadn't put there, deleted what I've recently installed. But I can't get rid of it.

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I’ve pondered this shot since TSOT aired. I kept wondering why we were shown the hug from this angle. At first I thought it had to do with John’s private nature, especially his private feelings about Sherlock: so private he can’t admit them to his therapist after Sherlock’s “death,” so private he makes sure Mrs. Hudson’s not watching before he touches Sherlock’s headstone. Here, he hides his face behind Sherlock’s before hugging him, and we get a private glimpse of his face full of adoration for his friend, but the guests do not.
Then I realized I had it backward. This shot isn’t about John hiding his face from the guests. When I don’t know how to understand a choice of cinematography, I usually think “What would I have meant by that choice?” And I realized that my wedding photography experience could indeed answer this question. It took me a long time to come up with because I don’t usually go behind the altar during the wedding ceremony, but I have done it enough to know that this is the kiss shot. This is the shot I do when the couple kiss. It’s one of the most important photographs to get of the wedding day; couples always, always request it. The usual way to do it is from the perspective of the guests, from the angle that most of Sherlock’s speech is filmed in TSOT, but this is a foreground-background connection: this is the shot I do when I want to show that the couple are celebrating their love in front of everyone they know.
That’s what this shot is. It’s John showing how much he cares about Sherlock, in front of God and congregation, in front of and family and friends. Just because his face is hidden doesn’t mean he’s not demonstrating his feelings for all to see, here, for the very first time.
send my muse one of these:
"I hope you’re happy."
"I can’t believe you talked me in to this."
"I have an idea…"
"What the hell did you do?"
"Did you do this?"
"You look better in that than I did."
"Is it supposed to do that?"
"I’m pretty sure I like you."
"I’m pretty sure I don’t like you."
"How do I do this?"
"Why are you taking so long?"
"Have you seen my pants?"
"Was it something I said?"
"Can you zip me up?"
"I love yooo-ur hair."
Welcome to your English Degree
You Are Cordially Invited

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observingxdeducing started following you
"Ah… Monsieur Holmes… what brings you to Poirot?"
"Monsieur Poirot, I was told you may have information for me concerning my current case."
+1
Sherlock stared down the stranger entering the room, taking in every hair placement, every loose button.
–scuffed, worn shoes; does a lot of walking running. –dust-covered pant leg, lives somewhere large, hard to clean, probably old –well fitted suit; tailored? Most probably. –mud stains on the bottom of his trench coat, most from different areas; travels a lot. –hair dented just above the ears; wears glasses. Not currently visible means not needed often, most likely only for reading and smaller details, possibly long-sighted.
Eyes narrowed, consistently darting over the man. Despite the basics and the obvious, Sherlock couldn’t find anything particular about the man; yet still he gave an odd feeling.
"Can I help you?"
"Ohhh, I think you can!" the Doctor answered quickly, head bobbing up and down in a nod as his eyes wandered ‘round the room. Not particularly a messy place, if you forgave the blood splattered on the walls and the four corpses that’d been strewn about the place, each one sporting only a single incision on their chest. Often, the Doctor didn’t come to crime scenes. Murders, especially; it just reminded him that there were people out there that thought this sort of thing was all right. That revenge was somehow better than resolution. But the name of a certain detective had caught his name.
“Sorry— hello!” with a sudden sniff, his eyes were drawn back to the man’s, “I’m the Doctor, here on business for the Queen.” If Lizzy had any objections to him using her name and a flash of the psychic paper as clearance, he could always let her track down her own compromising photos, the next time. “Bit of a long story… heard there was a Sherlock Holmes about, d’you know ‘im?”
The detective eyed the boisterous doctor from where he was crouched, as the other observed the dank room. "Then by all means, do share." The comment came stiff, it was not every day he had a stranger invade his crime scene, especially one of such peculiarity. Awaiting an answer, it became obvious that the man was one of short attention span. But the time he had taken to start talking again, Sherlock had already turned his attention back to the body before him.
–eyes lingering on corpses, obvious repulsion of sorts: not accustomed to the sight of death
"I didn't call a doctor, I have my own if I need." He said coldly, a small glance was thrown at the paper before dismissing it. That his name was known didn't surprise him, it was that he had to be asked, and therefore wasn't recognised, that roused suspicion. Snapping shut the magnifier and tucking it away, he rose to his feet. Hands clasped behind his back, the gap between them was closed by a few echoing steps. Demeanour stiffened further, "Better than most, one would assume. You're looking at him."
They took everything away from me. Everything went up in fłȺmɇs And I was left all ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.
And so I shall [remain] alone.
+1
Sherlock stared down the stranger entering the room, taking in every hair placement, every loose button.
–scuffed, worn shoes; does a lot of walking running. –dust-covered pant leg, lives somewhere large, hard to clean, probably old –well fitted suit; tailored? Most probably. –mud stains on the bottom of his trench coat, most from different areas; travels a lot. –hair dented just above the ears; wears glasses. Not currently visible means not needed often, most likely only for reading and smaller details, possibly long- sighted.
Eyes narrowed, consistently darting over the man. Despite the basics and the obvious, Sherlock couldn't find anything particular about the man; yet still he gave an odd feeling.
"Can I help you?"

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{ Endure}
αŋđ
{ SURVIVE }
- Don’t mess with the integrity of the…. Blerghhhhh blarrrhhh - Crime scene!
Alone is what I have.
"…then I saw the universe in your eyes." - inspired graphic, poem by Felicia

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