Tildathings All about Sherlock

@emmagrant01  @silentauroriamthereal @discordantwords @totallysilvergirl  @jbaillier  @7-percent  @therealsaintscully  @calaisreno @tildathings  @khorazir  @blueink3 @jobooksncoffee @finamour  @arwamachine and so many other authors/artists who write & draw/have written/drawn for the Sherlock fandom….thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your talents! Your works have been a bright spot for me during the pandemic and in the times previous. It’s time for me to say THANK YOU to you in this public forum. I’m so very grateful for you all!

Love,

Kaleidoscope, Ch. 18: “Surveillance: Video”

Excerpt:

I’ve had the video feeds inside 221B Baker Street activated.

Whatever Sherlock thinks and John hints, I have never relished surveilling my brother. I have always tried to afford him a modicum of privacy.

In this crisis, unfortunately, the only privacy I can give him is by viewing the videos myself, not delegating or allowing any field agents to see and transcribe them. And I need the information that only I can derive from a lifetime of interpreting his body language, facial expressions, gestures, tones of voice, and behaviours.

Nothing in our long history of my  oversight comes close to the excruciating scenes of John withdrawing from Sherlock.

Ch 19: “East Wind Coming”

Excerpt:

Damage control. Damage control.  Oh Sherlock, what have you done? “Hold your fire.  Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes!”   The screaming roar of the helicopters, my plan spinning out of control, terror that my brother would be shot out of hand, pity at the tears rolling down his face. As soon as he fired, I knew, he would see this killing as a failure. And a failure it was, certainly, for him and for me. How had this happened? Nothing at all was supposed to happen today, nothing but a stilted, wooden reconciliation between John and Mary Watson. And that had duly unfolded in the sitting-room, apparently, just before our parents and I were drugged and left in the care of a drug-dealing guttersnipe. While Sherlock and John went to Appledore to confront and now kill Charles Augustus Magnussen.

THIS IS NOT A WIP; IT’S COMPLETELY WRITTEN AND APPEARING AS I EDIT.  Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged, thanks–and thanks for reblogging!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34671580/chapters/89277418

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34671580/chapters/89277457

Two years ago today I finished posting Drawn to Stars. It remains my favorite of my ahem slender corpus of fics, and I wanted to say thank you to the readers who followed it while I was posting and those who read it all later.

Thanks to everyone who took a chance on a new writer and a snaggletoothed story. Special thanks to those who wrote reviews, and nagged and threatened and bludgeoned their acquaintance into reading it. Thanks to artists @procoffeinating and @camillo1978  and @johix and @sherlgrey, and layout genius @rimedio8, for making it visual / visible. Burnt offerings to the Fic Writers Workshop organizer and members who cheered it into being.

The comments on the fic have been a joy and an illumination, and are certainly the reason I kept posting rather than shelving or desk-drawering my stories. I’m tagging a few of the readers whose Tumblr handles I know, but honestly I’d tag every reader if I could. Thank you.

P.S. I had copies printed that I would be happy to send to readers who loved DtS (whether you loved or hated Roberto!). Free of charge and free of postage, wherever in the world you live. Send me a message if you’re interested in a hard copy.

Irene: you’re hot

Not sure if it is the wine, but Martin seems a bit blurry here. 😉 Good aim!

The first time I realized that in English the word God meant the guy in the sky.

Hear we go around calling the sky guy; good?

God=Good

Gud=God

Danish/Swedish solidarity.

They took in some people from a clothing store next door too. The employees could have gone home but couldn’t bring themselves to kick the customers out into the snow because some of them had an impossible three hours drive home and would have gotten stuck on the road in their cars so the employees and their boss opted to stay.

The woman who reported on the incident trekked alone through piles of snow on foot. She couldn’t bring a cameraman so everything was filmed with a small handheld camera.

They ate food from the cafeteria (meatballs of course), watched a Christmas show and football before getting to pick any bed they wanted in the store. In the morning they were served cinnamon buns and coffee/tea.

Sweden, Norway, Finland, Island and Denmark have probobly 1000 of stories!

I know a few from real life.

Like when after a snowstorm nine months later it was a babyboom in the middel of 1960th!

The higher up in the air the swing got the happier I felt.

Playing being a bride? No

BUT

At least that what’s happend to me.

I read fic’s for seven years before trying to write in English. Then realised that I could write in Swedish.

Right now I’m going through a relatively “reasonable” case of covid, because I’m vaccinated. So it’s like a cold. The longest fucking cold I’ve had this decade, including fever spikes, chills, shakes, throat pain up to issues with swallowing (3 days, gone now…), needing breathing treatments to make sure this doesn’t turn into pneumonia, staying up half of the night due to coughing (it’s 4am for me now, guess what’s keeping me awake), losing my sense of smell, muscle cramps (due to coughing) and falling asleep whenever my cough eases up, due to exhaustion. I can’t work, I can’t write, I can’t talk to people without breaking into hacking cough.

I was wearing the bloody mask. Half of the other people on my train were not.