Then there's the ambience of the room and external distractions, the discomfort of holding the book open, my itchy ass, not wanting to crease the spine of the book too much blah blah... I went years without much reading, and I was expecting some challenge upon returning to it, but not to this level.
I have had a bit of fun calling girls pulchritudinous and watching them got offended before discovering the meaning of it, but overall it's been a waste of time and all it's really done is get me mislabelled as being a pompous prick when I'm not trying to be. So I’ve unfortunately found myself scrolling the Instagram feed + swiping on you know which apps for half an hour or more before bed almost every night.
It is our intent and purpose to foster and encourage in-depth discussion about all things related to books, authors, genres, or publishing in a safe, supportive environment. BBC's phenomenal hit detective drama Sherlock, starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, took audiences by storm all over the world, and even though its 4th season had a tone of finality to it, fans worldwide have been clamoring for more ever since.
For instance, one Editor feels that John's behavior left much to be desired for a good part of the series. The fan feels that there was nothing positively wrong with the season, thus making the negative criticism aimed at it somewhat unjustified.
Another common grievance that some fans have about Sherlock is about the entire subplot involving Mary, not just her death scene, which they feel wasn't well-conceived. But although these Editors appreciate actor Andrew Scott in the role, they feel that Moriarty was never meant to be insane in the first place and that the very essence of Holmes arch-rival was that he was super calm and methodical.
A teacher, writer, and editor, she loves nothing better than to curl up on a lazy afternoon with her favorite book, or with a pen and a notebook (a laptop would have to do!) And I thought that fan fiction could take place in Holmes ’home Baker Street 221b.
Mary suggests the Ouija board game and when they start playing then the during of game Holmes tells her own theory about who is behind these horrors (based, of course, on Doyle’s own thoughts about this case). A. Conan Doyle never wrote a story where Holmes would have tried to solve the Jack the Ripper case.
Jack the Ripper was guilty of a total of 11 cases in the Whitechapel district. Admittedly, the author of these terrors was never caught and that’s why the Jack the Ripper case gave rise to a variety of theories, such as Doyle’s own theory that the author was actually a midwife woman named Jill who disgusted with prostitution and opposed to abortion, in the poor late 19th century London.
So I thought I could take advantage of A. Conan Doyle’s own theory and his interest in spiritualism in this fan fiction and I plot that it could be a one-night one-place story which centered around the Ouija board game. So they play it through the night without leaving the Baker Street flat.
And also, my intention is to leave the story unlinked for any particular year or era so that the reader can decide for himself whether the story of the fan fiction is part of a modern BBC adaptation or a canon of books. No incestuous slash, MPEG, soulmates trope (unless there's a twist to it or St) or omega/sentinel verses.
As pointed out, the tune is based on Go Tell Aunt Rhode, which I find catchy. But the text is not shown in its entirety, and it is not properly rhymed and does not fit the meter.
Some words are inspired by the authentic song itself and text of Go Tell Aunt Rhode. I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole and I ran out of fins to read.
As a character in the public domain, Sherlock Holmes has appeared in countless short stories, books, plays, movies, TV shows, comics, and presumably interpretive dances. But I have a soft spot for the original 56 short stories and four novels written by Holmes’s creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Also in third person, for some reason, but losing Watson’s narration drains all the life out of these stories. I just can’t get down with a story about the sinister uncanny valley aura of, um, a little black girl.
Not to spoil a 97-year-old story, but this one is about a guy who is injecting himself with extract of monkey to woo a much younger woman, which, uh, okay. The weirdest part is when Holmes worry that this will lead to a nation of monkey extract addicts.
The opium den setting of the opening scenes of this story promises a seedy, fog-shrouded mystery that never materializes. Instead, it’s a technically crime-free case of a man disguising himself as a beggar because he can make more money that way (uh, citation needed, ACD).
The best of the Watsonless stories, if only because Holmes yells “BEHOLD!” and then kills a jellyfish with a rock. The mystery is good, even if snakes don’t work that way, but this story is absolutely riddled with anti-Romani prejudice and the g-slur, and I can’t sign off on that.
Holmes makes the brilliant deduction that only a very tall man could see into a very high window! I’ve always found this story a bit depressing, and it suffers from being in third person, but at least Holmes grows a goatee.
The actual mystery here is fairly implausible, although less so given how little Victorians knew how to deal with any animal more exotic than a badger, but the end is so striking in its pathos and Holmes’s helpless compassion that it makes this otherwise rather “ripped from the tabloids!” story quite moving. A perfectly serviceable little mystery, with the added bonus of Holmes threatening to horsewhip a cad.
Really just a retread of “The Second Stain” but with addition of the second cleverest method of disposing of dead bodies in the canon. So silly and implausible even Holmes and Watson get the giggles over it; plus, as a redhead myself, I think I’m duty bound to feel a fondness for this one.
Any story that begins with severed ears in a box getting mailed to the wrong person has to be good. We also get Holmes’s baffling prediction that someday the U.S. and UK will merge to form a giant colonialist super-country, just sort of sprinkled in there for flavor.
I’m discovering an unexpectedly bloodthirsty streak in my nature while making this list, but hey, if we’re solving crimes here, let’s have thumbs be cut off with hatchets every once in a while! Good deductive work from Holmes, arrogant bungling from Lestrade, and star-crossed young lovers who get a happy ending.
Not only did this give us the classic “curious incident of the dog in the nighttime” exchange (and subsequent book titles, Poirot references, etc. The first Sherlock Holmes story ever published has a lot to like, including two juicy murders, baby Holmes and Watson meeting for the first time, and the sadly underutilized Baker Street Irregulars.
A heartwarming holiday story in which Holmes and Watson attempt to trace the origins of a Christmas goose with a purloined precious stone inside it. Look: ACD invented Moriarty as a hastily conceived way to kill off his own most hated creation, and “the Napoleon of crime” is wildly overused in adaptations for a character who had zero actual thought put into him.
But Watson’s recreation of Holmes’s dramatic death gets me where I live every time, so I don’t even care. The locked room mystery and dramatic climax of this story are good, but they’re still second fiddle to Holmes coming back to life and Watson literally fainting about it.
A twisty little whodunit, a spirited heroine in Annie Harrison, an opportunity for Holmes to both brawl and be ludicrously melodramatic when he serves the recovered treaty disguised as a breakfast dish, and a hilariously weird digression where he deduces the existence of God from how flowers are pretty. Like many of the later stories, this one is lurid and implausible, but it gets a relatively high placement for the intense scene where Holmes and Watson deliberately give themselves a bad trip and then lie on the grass talking about how much they love each other.
The titular cyclist, Violet Smith, is admirably spunky, and I like to see Watson getting some solo detective work in this story, even if he bungles it. I’m on the record as stating that I think Irene Adler’s influence in adaptations is disproportionate to her original canon page time, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a badass.