Unmarked in Life

HC time : Sherlock used to love picking flowers as a child. Mycroft would take him to a pretty meadow, and he would read a book while keeping a close eye on his little brother. Sherlock would keep running to him to show him the flowers he picked, and Mycroft would teach him all there is to know about them.(Occasionally Sherlock would make him pick flowers with him.)

Years later, Mycroft takes Sherlock to a very discreet house in the countryside so that they can discuss Moriarty. The house’s garden is full of pretty wildflowers.

At some point, Mycroft tells Sherlock to go pick flowers while he takes a call from work. Sherlock puffs up his cheeks and says he’s not a child any more, but he goes to pick flowers anyway (Mycroft is on the phone but keeps an eye on him, out of habit) - this actually brings comfort to both brothers.

Sherlock in his copper corset - he definitely tucks…(all kinds of crazy, inspired by Atlin Merrick and chapter 25 of her advent calendar)

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5402675/chapters/14834362

How you got him into it I do not even fathom. How John gets him out of it…that I can. Thank you so much!

Little Watson study, done in two short sessions

As the light began to draw in after a days filming on location of Sherlock series 2 in August 2011, two members of the Sherlockology team were sitting on the curb facing Speedy’s considering the real building used for the exterior shots of 221 Baker Street; No.187 North Gower Street.

The main topic of conversation was the fact that the exterior in reality simply couldn’t contain the interior flat we see on screen producing almost a TARDIS problem. A third member of the team overhearing the conversation, while passing to take more photographs as the crew prepared for the ‘Imminent and Daring Escape’ scene from ‘The Reichenbach Fall’, laughed at our conversation suggesting we sounded like a couple of Star Trek fans discussing how so many crewman’s bedrooms could in reality fit on the U.S.S. Enterprise (rather ironic considering what Benedict’s future project would turn out to be!) Although there certainly was a valid point made there, chances are other fans had pondered this very same question.

a couple of months ago i was reading this book for my lgbt+ american history and literature class called The Beautiful Room is Empty by Edmund White, which is a semi-autobiographical book about a gay man growing up in the 50s and 60s (and it’s also really really good). but as i was trying to read it in peace i stumbled upon this line that just stopped me because i knew it, and i just sat there like ‘what the fuck’ before realizing why i recognized it: 

“But for me, the tuxedos (which depersonalize waiters and lend distinction to friends)…”

here’s the paragraph in full

and i realized that it’s almost identical to one of sherlock’s lines in the empty hearse

and i was like oh my god MARK and it was bothering me for months because i researched it to see if maybe both sources were referencing something else altogether but i couldn’t find anything. and so finally this past sunday at the sherlocked con, i was like ‘shit i never asked mark about that book’ and i looked over and there was no one in line for an autograph from him so i went over and asked the woman next to him if i could take a few minutes to ask him a question

and she said yes and so i started telling him this whole story and it was really sweet because when i asked him if he’d read the book he was like “of course i have :)” like genuinely happy to be talking about this book and possibly to realize what i was bringing up

and i told him about how i’d recognized it and realized what it was and i was about to say ‘because it’s in the empty hearse!’ and he cut me off and said ‘it’s the line about the waiter’ and i was like ‘!!! yeah!’ and he started reciting the line with me like. saying it right behind him and i got so excited to have that finally answered, because i mean he just straight up told me that he referenced THAT quote in THAT SCENE 

It would’ve been cool to see Merlin struggling to contain all this power especially at the start of the series while he’s still learning to harness his magic:

Like maybe Arthur throws something at Merlin while half paying attention but Merlin’s magic stops it midflight and he has to quickly unfreeze and take the hit to avoid suspicion

Gwen asks Merlin to pass her the washing but it’s moving before he can even get his hands on it and Merlin has to scramble after it to grab the basket midair

Merlin’s carrying a meal up to the princes chambers and trips, his magic catching him and the tray of food and quickly righting them both, and Merlin glances around to see if anyone noticed

Gaius asks him to light a candle and suddenly every wick in the room is lit before he can even finish his sentence

7,094,514,678

Four

The number of homicides last year in the London borough of Westminster, of which 221B Baker is part.

88,740

The total square miles comprising Great Britain, which includes England, Scotland, and Wales.

1 in 7,094,514,678

The number of John Hamish Watsons contained within the entire earth’s population.

                                                               *

Sherlock Holmes doesn’t believe in luck. He doesn’t believe in fate, favour, karma, or any of the other unscientific concepts people employ for making sense of fortunes both good and ill.

But…

Seven billion, ninety four million, five hundred and fourteen thousand, six hundred and seventy eight.

What are the chances that a very singular consulting detective, mean-mouthed and prickly, brilliant and vain, should meet one man hidden in so many? What are the chances that in a population so vast there would be a doctor, a soldier, a friend who, over time would take the time to help Sherlock, teach him, to love him?

What are the chances that this small man would need Sherlock’s big hands to soothe away nightmares? That between short wriggly toes long fingers would perfectly fit? What are the chances that the two of them would build a life together, watch telly, drink tea, talk long of thing petty and profound?

What are the chances that in a world of seven billion human beings Sherlock should meet John and in each other they would find contentment and peace, passion and love?

What are the chances?

One in one

For though Sherlock Holmes doesn’t believe in fate or karma or luck or even prayer, he with all his heart believes this: There is no time, no world, no place in which he would not have met John Watson. Without even knowing they were looking, Sherlock knows they would have found each other.

No matter when or where or how…they would have found each other.

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The sweet artwork is from the so-gifted Doublenegativemeansyes, thank you so much for letting me use it! And for any who wonder, yes, at the time of writing, all figures were correct!

Like, you're born in Atlanta Georgia sometime in the 1880s. Your mother is a white English immigrant. Your father is an African American lawyer who has managed to become fairly wealthy off his practice.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle claims that your parents were married, but they almost certainly weren't or, if they were, they probably had to go elsewhere to get married and their marriage wouldn't have been recognised in Georgia. Realistically, they were facing huge amounts of prejudice that are only increased when you are born.

(Your mother openly says, in front of you when you're older, that it is a “great misfortune” that you were born with darker skin than even your father.)

Then disaster strikes. Your father dies. Your mother can't stand to stay in America without him and returns to England.

She does not take you with her. She says this is because of your health. It's just way healthier for you to stay where you are, as a parentless mixed race child in the Jim Crow era American South. Rather than going with your only living relative to England (which, while obviously still very racist, at least doesn't have any actual laws against people like you existing).

Your mother meets a new man. A merchant. He's white. She signs over all your father's money and investments to him when they marry. She doesn't tell him about you. She's worried he wouldn't understand. She later explains that this was a major ordeal for her. That she struggled in vain to resist the urge to send for you for three years, until it got too much to bear.

So now you live in England. In a cottage on the estate that was partly paid for by your father's money.

You're not allowed to leave the cottage, because if anyone sees you outside in the daylight then they might find out that you're black. While you're in the cottage, even (apparently) at nighttime, you are made to wear long gloves and a fucking mask, so that nobody can accidentally look through the window and find out that you're black.

Your mother visits you occasionally. She tells you that you're her “own girlie and mother's pet” whether you're “dark or fair”. When her husband comes to see what's going on, you and your nurse get shoved out the back door so he won't see you and find out that you're black.

Unfortunately, your stepfather has noticed that his wife keeps randomly going off in the middle of the night to visit a mysterious cottage where the only inhabitant seem to be a weirdly secretive servant woman and a strange masked figure, and has decided that something Fucked Up is going on.

So he goes to consult the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes. Normally, the Great Detective Sherlock Holmes can work this kind of shit out in his sleep, but unfortunately your family is so dysfunctional that you override his borderline magical deduction abilities, and the best theory he can come up with is either “secret affair” or “weirdly convoluted blackmail scheme”.

Fortunately however, this does lead to your stepfather eventually meeting you and finding out who you are. Including the fact that you're black.

Turns out he's fine with it.

Like completely. Quite possibly more so than your own mother is. Turns out there was no need for the traumatic abandonment, the years of separation and then the even more traumatic being forced to live like The Man In The Iron Mask in a cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Nope. Turns out you could have been allowed to go outside in daylight this entire time. You all go back to the big house (that was paid for in part with your father's investments) together and we never find out what happens to you.

I mean… what. The. Fuck.

Like, I'm not expecting Sir Arthur CD to have written an entire child psychology textbook to go with what was meant to be a fun little short story about racial tolerance, but holy shit.

🎂 Happy Birthday, John Watson!

We don't have a canonical date for when John was born, but his fans are resourceful, and July 7 is one of the extra-canonical dates when his birth is celebrated, possibly chosen because that is the death date of his creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in 1930. (Not a great reason, but these are the same people who decided Watson had six wives.)

August 7 is also celebrated, because William S. Baring-Gould uses this date in his biography, Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street. BBC's Sherlock chose April 23, for reasons unknown. It seems that Sherlock knew this, but missed the party because he had a 'thing.'

I'd like to celebrate today by quoting some of my favourite descriptions of the good doctor from fan fiction. 🥳 (And thereby recommending some favourite stories to you!)

Our dear Doctor Watson deserves another round of appreciation today, his second (non)canonical birthday! 💕 Have some cake! c🎂🎂