sherlock collection

Why there HAS to be a 4th episode or A quick reminder of everything that is fucky

I know that lately it has become difficult to keep believing in the existence of a fourth episode, one the fandom has decided to call the Lost Special. So this post has nothing but the goal to lay down the hard facts that prove not only the existence of that episode but also the necessity of it.

This is a collection of reasons why we believe in a Lost Special, all at the same place. No Arg, no speculations, no hard meta, just the irrefutable evidence we’ve gathered that shows how something is terribly wrong at the moment within the show itself. If someone starts doubting, this is supposed to remind them why we’re still in the expectative.

Tighten your belt, we’re going deep inside the show. It’s going to be long, and frankly not everything will make sense but that’s the point: nothing make sense otherwise.

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Every Song Reminds Me of You

It starts in the shower.  There’s something about the acoustics in the bathroom, combined with the rush of water, that has always enticed John to sing.  Any song will do — from childhood favourites to whatever he’s most recently heard on the radio.  Whether John remembers the lyrics or not doesn’t matter; he’s quite capable of making up his own.

So, that’s how it starts.  The water cascades down over John’s body as he belts out his personal version of Amy Winehouse’s Valerie:

Since I’ve come on home
Well, my body’s been a mess
And I’ve missed your curly hair
And the way you like to dress

Won’t you come on over
Stop treating me like I’m your toy
Why don’t you come on over my Posh Boy?
My Posh Boy, my Posh Boy, my Posh Boy…

Huh… Where did that come from? John wonders idly as he towels off.  Posh Boy…  


The next morning, John has The Beach Boys stuck in his head, but the lyrics that spill out of his mouth in the shower become:

Well, Posh Boy, you look so fine
And I know it wouldn’t take much time
For you to help me, Posh Boy
Help me get her out of my heart

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy

John laughs to himself as he borrows Sherlock’s overpriced shampoo, and keeps on singing.

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy, yeah
Get her out of my heart


Soon, John finds that he can’t hear a single song without unconsciously changing the lyrics to include his new secret nickname for Sherlock.  Singing in the shower is one thing, but now these songs have started taking over his life.  

John hates Justin Bieber, but this damn song was playing on the radio in the cab and he just can’t get it out of his head:

‘Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I’m still holdin’ on
Well, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself

At first, John is glad when he hears an equally catchy tune, thinking it will save him from the horrors of Justin Bieber.  Unfortunately, Train has turned the melody of Heart and Soul into an ear-worm that he just can’t shake.

Posh Boy song
The one that makes me go all night long
The one that makes me think of you
That’s all you gotta do

Hey, Posh Boy song
The one the makes me stay out till dawn
The one that makes me go oooh
That’s all you gotta do


As if that wasn’t bad enough, John rapidly discovers that everyday events are now becoming song cues.  Laying the fire on a chilly night leads to an internal:

You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Boy, we couldn’t get much higher
Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire
Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire

And each time Sherlock does something inconsiderate or foolhardy, John silently channels Hall & Oates:

You’re a Posh Boy, and you’ve gone too far
‘Cause you know it don’t matter anyway

John snickers to himself at the thought of what Sherlock would say if he could hear the soundtrack in John’s mind.


It’s only in the shower that John allows himself to sing out loud.  That’s where he’s always felt free to let go of all of his inhibitions.  Lately, though, the songs that come to him seem to be filled with a meaning he might not be ready to face.

When you were a young boy
Did you have a puppy
That always followed you around?
Well, I’m gonna be as faithful as that puppy
No, I’ll never let you down

‘Cause it grows stronger, like a river flows
And it gets bigger, Posh Boy, heaven knows
And it gets sweeter, Posh Boy, as it grows

And do I love you, my oh my?
Yeah, river deep, mountain high
If I lost you would I cry
Oh, how I love you, Posh Boy
Posh Boy, Posh Boy, Posh Boy

That one he shrugs off by telling himself that it was triggered by Donovan comparing him to a puppy following Sherlock around.  The next one he figures is just an expression of his lifelong admiration of Paul McCartney:  

And when I go away
I know my heart can stay with Posh Boy
It’s understood
It’s in the hands of Posh Boy
And Posh Boy does it good
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

And when the cupboard’s bare
I’ll still find something there with Posh Boy
It’s understood
It’s everywhere with Posh Boy
And Posh Boy does it good
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

Whoa-whoa, I love, oh-whoa, Posh Boy
Only Posh Boy holds the other key to me
Oh-whoa, Posh Boy, oh-oh, Posh Boy
Only Posh Boy does it good to me
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

John is just a huge fan of Paul McCartney.  That’s all.


Each morning, behind the muffling safety of the water, John runs through one song after another.  As time goes by, he washes away his denial.  John is in love with a Posh Boy.

John is in love with Sherlock.


It’s bound to happen eventually, and one day it does: John starts singing as he makes tea.

Posh Boy says
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help
Falling in love with him

There’s a gasp from behind him, and John whirls around to see Sherlock sitting at the table.  In a blind panic, John dashes from the kitchen, races up the stairs, and shuts himself in his room.  The only song running through his mind now is shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite…

Idiot! John berates himself.  Why did you run off like that?  You could have bluffed your way through this like it meant nothing, but no, you had to go and turn it into a Huge Fucking Deal.  Fuckity fucking fuck!

John hears Sherlock’s footsteps on the stairs and frantically casts around for an excuse for his behaviour.  Hmm…  He thought he heard someone breaking into his room.  Yeah.  That’s why he ran up here.  John grabs his gun and aims it at the window, freezing in a pose that will show Sherlock that he’s managed to scare off the intruder.    

Sherlock doesn’t enter the room, though.  Instead, he pauses outside the door and begins to sing.  It takes a minute for John’s fevered brain to register what he’s hearing.

Doctor, doctor, give me the news
I’ve got a bad case of lovin’ you…


This was written for @alexxphoenix42‘s prompt: “John calls Sherlock his Posh Boy as MUCH AS POSSIBLE.”  Check out the other responses to her prompts at the alexxphoenix42 appreciation collection.

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archiveofourown.org
The Biannual Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Collection | Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

WE HAVE A COLLECTION NOW!

I am waiting for a set of warming gloves to show up so I can settle in and do serious writing, so I figured in the meantime I would set up the collection while I was waiting to go do errands. 

There is a parent collection and three subcollections at the moment. Only two are open right now: Summer 2016 and Winter 2017. On the profile of each subcollection is the prompts that were used for each round so you can double check your fanworks to make sure they were for that round (I had a few I forgot to note were for the week) and then it’s just simple to add. JUST PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU ADD YOUR FANWORKS TO THE SUBCOLLECTIONS AND NOT THE PARENT COLLECTION. I’ve added all of my fic so it’s got stuff in it and shows how it should look, but it’s not just for fic! Fanart, fanvideos, meta…anything you guys did, if you can upload it to AO3, please add it to the collection.

Also, as the prompts are on the individual subcollection profile pages, if you want to add new content to an individual subcollection for one of the prompts, feel free! Even though each week is over, the whole point is to show our love for Molly and the best way to do it is to make new works. So if you write something new with an old prompt at any point, add it to the appropriate subcollection.

(Not) Killing Your Darlings: Parallels Between ACD Canon and S4

I’ve slowly been working my way through a reread of the canon stories, and although I am used to finding phrases and plotlines among the stories that have been adapted within Sherlock, what surprised me towards the end of the canon is that the writers of Sherlock appear to be adapting the way the stories are written, as well. We’ve talked a lot about the idea that Mofftiss have Reichenbached the show in Series 4, but I’m beginning to think they have Case-booked it (and His Last Bowed it, a little, too). This will probably sound grim at first, but I remain an optimist when it comes to Sherlock, so bear with me. These are Princess Bride “pit of despair” times; I figure if we have to be here, we may as well look around.

As a quick reminder, Doyle published the short stories as:

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1892)
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1894)
The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1905)
His Last Bow (1917)
The Case-book of Sherlock Holmes (1927)

I’m going to start at the end of His Last Bow and the later stories, because they best parallel Series 4, then look back very briefly.

Breaking the fourth wall

His Last Bow breaks the pattern of the Sherlock Holmes story collections in a few ways. It begins with a brief preface written by John H. Watson; he addresses the reader directly to explain that he and Holmes are still living, though ageing:

”The friends of Mr Sherlock Holmes will be glad to learn that he is still alive and well, though somewhat crippled by occasional attacks of rheumatism… Several previous experiences which have lain long in my portfolio, have been added to ‘His Last Bow’ so as to complete the volume.” (His Last Bow, preface)

… lots more under the cut.

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PT.7

PT.1 | PT.2| PT.3 | PT.4| PT.5 | PT.6 | PT.8| PT.9| PT.10| PT.11| PT.12| PT.13

After the tea was made, and Sherlock’s singing turned to humming, John was sat on the sofa with a dozing baby in his arms thinking about Sherlock. Sherlock was in the kitchen trying his hand at making spaghetti. He told John that cooking is chemistry if you think about it, and he is a graduate chemist. John wanted to tell him that there was more to it, but was too distracted to say anything.

He hadn’t said much to Sherlock after their kiss actually. Was it even a kiss? It was more like a peck on the cheeks, he was caught in the heat of the moment, Sherlock kissed him first. He loved it, he wanted to kiss him again, every time he looked at him, his eyes would linger to those pink lips. They felt like cushions compared to his own. After the kiss, John just felt so warm inside, like a fire has been ignited in his heart. Rosie hiccupped, interrupting his thoughts. He looked down and saw that she could barely keep her eyes open and had half a mind to place her in her crib.

“John!”

Sherlock was staring at him from the kitchen with a frown. “I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

John shrugged. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“Obviously.”

He watched Sherlock rummage through the cabinets until he found the plates. The sound of Sherlock fixing their plates faded as his mind drifted again. Look at him, he’s so perfect. The way he interacted with Rosie, how he fussed about the kitchen trying to cook a meal for the two of them. The domesticity that they shared in 221B flooded his mind in droves. How could he ever think to remove himself of such bliss? Sherlock walked over to him and opened his mouth to speak before his eyes rested on the now sleeping baby in John’s lap.

“Ah, it appears little Rosie was worn down by our playing. She’s making excellent progress with her…”

John’s eyes honed on those lips yet again. The way they enunciated every syllable of his words, the expressiveness of them. John licked his own in the hopes that he would always remember the taste of them. He wished that he didn’t end it so quickly, he wished that he had more courage, he was a soldier dammit! He’s treated the worst wounds, survived an almost fatal gun wound and yet he couldn’t tell his best friend and flatmate that he loved him. He shook his head when he saw Sherlock’s concerned expression.

“John, were you listening to me?”

“Um, yeah, yeah, of course I was. Dinner’s ready?”

Sherlock’s bottom lip quivered a bit and it made John sad to see. Sherlock held his arms out for the baby and said, “I can put her to bed. You can go to the table.”

John nodded absentmindedly and carefully handed her over to Sherlock who walked lightly to her room. John seated himself at the table and stared at the plate that was already prepared for him. He smiled softly at how clean the plate was beside the food directly in the center. John didn’t care much for presentation but of course his posh boy did. He looked over at Sherlock’s plate and saw that it wasn’t nearly as tended to as his own. He loved that man. Sherlock appeared in the dining room and took his seat. His eyes were fixed on John with an eager smile on his face.

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

John cursed himself at the way Sherlock deflated. What was he doing wrong? What was making him unhappy when he was so cheerful a few hours ago? Sherlock sighed and looked down at his plate, twirling his spaghetti on his fork and eating it with a mournful look. John did the same and when he swallowed, he looked up and saw Sherlock with his puppy face. John smiled and said, “This is good, Sherlock!”

“Is it really?”

John dabbed his face with the napkin and nodded. “Of course it is. You know I appreciate my pasta.”

The joke fell flat and they continued to eat their dinner in silence. Sherlock finished before John, the man never took the time to enjoy food like John did. He folded his hands on the table and waited for his tablemate to finish his food. When John took his last bite Sherlock got up and collected both of their plates and walked to the sink without a word. John fidgeted in his chair and watched Sherlock wash their plates. Was he mad at John? Was he tired of living with him? It agitated him to see Sherlock in such pain. John closed his eyes and inhaled. He had to ask him.

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

Sherlock stopped scrubbing and looked up at him with sad, glassy eyes. He just stared at John for a while before he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Sherlock looked reluctant to continue. John didn’t want to force the answer out of him, but he didn’t want Sherlock to think he had to suffer in silence. John sighed and said, “Fine, we’ll do things your way. Whenever you want to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Sherlock nodded petulantly.

“I know you are, John.”

John smirked and began to help collect the silverware and soiled napkins, since Sherlock ran off with their plates in a haste. It seemed like an eternity between them. Sherlock took the pots and began washing them, and John walked around him, storing the leftovers of the food, placing the silverware in the sink, and binning the used napkins. He rested his back against the counter next to Sherlock, and crossed his arms. Sherlock scrubbed furiously at the clean plate. John placed a hand on Sherlock’s back.

“I can help dry the plates if you would like.”

Wordlessly, Sherlock handed him a plate and John chuckled as he grabbed the rag to dry it. They stood together, focused on their chores. Sherlock broke the silence by whispering, “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

John nearly dropped the plate he was holding. “What?”

“Earlier today, when I kissed you, it was unwarranted and selfish of me.”

John dropped the rag and turned to face him. Sherlock stopped his scrubbing again, his hands submerged in the water as he stood straight and stared at nothing.

“You clearly seem uncomfortable with me now. You tune me out, you reply in short sentences, and what’s worse…you seem bored.”

“Bored?” John was trying to keep his tone level. Sherlock thought he was bored of him? Uninterested? He surely was a madman.

“Now’s not the time to act daft, John. Contrary to popular belief, I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome. Say the word and I’ll pack my things and leave.”

John heard enough of Sherlock’s self-deprecation. He was an idiot, a complete idiot for letting this man think that he of all people became boring and unloved. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s chest started to heave as he began his rant and John saw the glistening of tears in his eyes as he poured his heart out to him. “I should be used to this feeling by now, of rejection. I’ve been rejected so…so many times, John. It hurt, it always hurt but I never thought that you would end being one of the people that reject…”

John grabbed Sherlock’s face and brought him into a crushing kiss. He sighed loudly at finally being able to kiss him again, to be able to show his utter love and devotion to the man by something as simple yet passionate as this. Sherlock closed his eyes, and John could taste the saltiness of Sherlock’s tears as they ran down his face and into their mouths. His chest heaved against John’s and he placed his hands on John’s waist to steady himself from the surprise. John pulled away from him, out of breath but never looking away from Sherlock’s gorgeous eyes.

“Listen to me, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I made you feel like this, like you were alone, that you were anything less than the extraordinary man that I know you are. You are the biggest git to think that I would ever even for one moment lose interest in you. I love you okay? I love you, I love you…” John trailed off and muttered, “I love you” after each kiss he pressed to Sherlock’s wet lips, his salty cheeks, and his forehead.

“You’re so clever, and beautiful, Sherlock I’m utterly besotted, okay? You’re brilliant, and kind, and…Sherlock I don’t think there’s any word in the English language that will ever tell you how dear you are to me.”

Sherlock let out a sob, but he was smiling, he was happy and he was loved and that’s all John could ask for. His face was red and his eyes puffy and swollen from his crying but it was no longer out of pain.

“I only want to hear you say three words, John.” John nearly wept himself at how small and shaky Sherlock’s voice was. He was beautiful when he cried.

“Yes, of course. I love you.”

“No, no.” Sherlock chuckled softly and shook his head as he wiped away the tears. John looked confused at what he wanted. Sherlock took John’s hands off his face and pressed a small, wet kiss to his knuckles.

“I’m a git.”

They both laughed a little louder, and John kissed him again.

—–

Okay so I think, what I want the rest of this to be is just them getting into the habit of learning to be in a relationship with each other and getting used to each other again. 

@sappylock @vitruvianwatson @fortheloveofjawn @justsherlythings7 @now–what @bronzedviolets @aconsultinghobbitinthetardis @deathfrisbee-221b @the-john-to-your-sherlock@johnandsherlocks @willasherlyscottholmes @toooldforthatsh-stuff @random-nexus @the-three-garridebs @akablue24 @worthless-dude @angel-loving-star @beekeepers-in-love @jubalya @im-batt-mellamy @imworkingonit86 @buckynotbuchanan @certaincollectiontravelerlove @teeeffdee @mycroftpotter @purplejayee @funkychickzz @wellthengameover @superspringles @gimmeastartoreachfor @orphengesic-tab @froggie95 @enchanted-captainswan @sirarthurcanondoyle @watsonsanatomy @loveismyrevolution @missmuffin221 @chulia25 @jazziejexbird @ink-in-murder @thegameisgay @usuallynotusual @sspectacularlyignorant @theelephantin221b @justinmymindpalace @masterofhounds @fallingoffbarts @sherlock-totally-loves-john @shayspieterse @loveteaelephants @tealfox-10-24 @cow-mow @vaticancameos-andtea @reallyimpossibleartisan @lets-play-muuurder @deathishauntedbyhumans @sairyn-noc @wholockian16 @221beestings @real-life-reichenbach @ttennis1121 @treacherous-siren @frozenrendezvous @beardchr @deliriouslylazyafternoons @hushwatson @fuck-off-watson @chinike @jael3333 @wilde-grrrl @pepperminotaur @castiel-is-not-a-god @bisexualowl @simpleanddestructivechemistry @daisyfairy1 @miss-phanatic @cj-holmes @escaroles @bleedingverses @morgendaemmerung89 @bvil23 @gobacktobakerstreet @wingedpurplewords @aznaks @johnlock-reality @clueless-kait @katthepotato @heartsherlocked @anglophilean  @johnlockissquishy @there-is-no-inbetween @busybiscute

Annnnnd that’s everyone! Please like/reply/reblog! 

Imagine

John and Sherlock are still not together, but they’re rebuilding their lives. They have finally gotten everything in the flat back to normal, and things are finally starting to go back to the way they used to be. Before…

Well, before all that.

Except now they have Rosie, and Sherlock worships the little girl. He’s spent his days with her teaching her about deductions, helps her learn to walk, tries to teach her how to speak. John will come home and catch him in the act and just smile.

One day, as they’re sitting in their chairs watching the news, Rosie on John’s lap, Sherlock asks John something that’s been on his mind for a while.

“John, what if we took a holiday?”

John looks away from the telly to look at him. “A holiday, huh?”

“Yeah, a uhm… A family… Holiday. Because you and Rosie are my family, and there’s been a lull in cases, so…”

John smiled. “Sounds nice,” he said, then bent down to kiss Rosie’s cheek. “What do you think, baby girl? Does that sound like fun? Can you say ‘yes’?”

Rosie looked at him and then over to Sherlock as she chewed on a fabric doll, not saying a word. John sighed.

“She’ll get there, John.”

“I know, I know, and a break sounds wonderful. Where were you thinking of going?”

“My family has access to a remote island not too far from Italy. We could go there for a few days; we wouldn’t be bothered.”

John smiled. “Sounds bloody fantastic.”

So they leave a few days later. They fly to Italy and take a boat to the island. 

“It’s gorgeous,” John says as he takes Rosie out of her seat. Sherlock collects the luggage and brings it inside. 

“I thought you’d appreciate it,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Come on, I’ll show you Rosie and your rooms.”

“I get my own room for once? This really is a wonderful holiday” John chuckled. 

Once they’re unpacked, they sit on the floor and play with Rosie. They jingle soft toys in her face and Sherlock voices one of her dolls for her, both smiling as the baby laughed. They tried to get her to speak every once in a while, but to no avail. 

The night before they leave, Sherlock takes them around the island one last time, and to the top of the small cliff that overlooks the ocean. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sherlock murmurs.

“Very,” John agrees. Sherlock doesn’t realize that John is looking at him as he says it. He doesn’t realize until he looks over to him and catches his gaze, unable to look away. 

After a few moments, John clears his throat and whispers, “I’m glad we came here, thank you, Sherlock.”

“Of course, John,” Sherlock says softly, “thank you for coming.”

John smiles. “Of course, it’s like you said; we’re a family, the three of us.”

“A family,” Sherlock repeats with a smile. He hadn’t noticed how close he and John had been standing until now; they’re close enough that Rosie is pressed against his side. 

John’s eyes only leave Sherlock’s for a moment as they travel down to his lips before returning to his eyes. Sherlock seems to take the hint because the next thing John knows the detective is leaning his head down towards him, and he’s tilting his head up. 

When their lips touch, it’s like a spark of electricity. John had imagined what it would be like to kiss him several times but it’s so much better in reality. Sherlock’s lips are soft against his own and he takes a moment to lock the feeling in his mind before he begins to move his lips against the detective’s.

This is better than Sherlock ever could have imagined. He’d imagined several scenarios that could have lead to this moment but none of them even remotely compared to the real thing. John’s chapped lips resting against his own, then moving in tandem with his own was… magical. He knows it’s cliched, the term and the scenery, but he doesn’t give a damn. He raises his hands up and placed them on John’s waist, pulling the doctor and the little girl he cares so much for closer to him. 

When their lips break apart Sherlock keeps his eyes closed for a moment, afraid that if he opens them, the scene would disappear, and it would have all been a dream. When he does open them however, John is still there, Rosie the only thing keeping them from being completely pressed against each other. For a moment, they just looked into each others eyes, then Sherlock clears his throat. 

“That was…” he starts, his voice a bit faulty so he clears his throat again. “That was… good. Very good.”

“Yeah, John murmurs with a content sigh, “That was really wonderful.” He smiles at Sherlock and slowly raises one hand to the man’s cheek, giving him space to back away if he wants to. When he doesn’t, John places his hand on Sherlock’s cheek and Sherlock nuzzles it a bit before placing his own hand over John’s, turning his head to kiss the doctor’s palm before resting his cheek against it again. 

John smiles and slides his hand back to tangle it in the detective’s dark curls, pulling him closer to kiss him again. Right before their lips touch however, Rosie interrupts them by shouting “Dada!”

The two men freeze and look at the little girl, who is smiling proudly. “Dada!” she said again, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Sherlock and John look at the baby and then back at each other. Once they register what had happened, they smile at each other before looking back to Rosie. John pulls Sherlock close and kisses him once more. They pull apart with smiles and John brings Rosie up higher so they can kiss her cheeks, which sends the little one into a fit of giggles. 

“Good job, baby girl!” Sherlock praises, kissing her cheek once more. “Good job! Your dada and I are so proud of you!” 

John smiles and presses a kiss into the baby’s blonde curls and feels Sherlock push a kiss into his own hair. John looks up at him and smiles wide. Sherlock smiles back. “See? I told you that she would speak eventually.”

John chuckles. “Yeah, you did. That’s why you’re the genius.”

Sherlock snorts. “Please, John. That’s not the reason I’m the genius.”

John rolls his eyes and shoves him a bit. “Alright, that’s enough you.” He looks back up at Sherlock. “This really has been wonderful, Sherlock. thank you for bringing us here.”

“Of course, John,” he says, eyes bright. He leans his head down and places his lips gently over John’s once more. 

It really had been a nice vacation, though if either of them had been asked, they would have said that that last night had been their favorite part.

2

Miniseries March April is here! As you can see, we have a fantastic run of shows coming up this month.

Each of these wonderful TV fusions will be posting once a week for the next four weeks. We will reblogging “new episode” announcements from our authors, so be sure to follow us to catch every update! 

This week’s cover by the inimitable @bluebellofbakerstreet. To check out past covers by bluebell and others, check out the TV Guide archive for our last miniseries season. You can also read past contributions to the TV Fusion project at our ao3 collection.