sherlock reunion

In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.


Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.

The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.

He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.

Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.

“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”

Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”

Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”

Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”

Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?

“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”

Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…

And the waiting had begun.

Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.

He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.

It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.

Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…

Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.

But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.

It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.

Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.

John

The screen said John.

Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.

He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”

Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”

The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”

You’re awake.”

Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”

“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.

Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.

“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”

Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”

John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“

“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“

“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”

He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“

“I don’t joke.”

Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“

“John. I’m okay-“

“Well, you were dead this morning!”

John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.

“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re-“

“I wanted to tell you so many times-“

“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”

Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”

A beat of silence, “What?”

Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”

The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“

“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”

“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”

“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”

Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”

Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“

“Right, can we not say goodbye?”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”

“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.

Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.

“See you soon, John.”

A Study in Pink sets the stage for all of our future expectations. Nothing in this show is done by accident, and the way it is all handled is masterful. Seeds are sewn in this first episode that will never cease to matter throughout the duration of the show.

Take the first meal Sherlock and John share together at Angelo’s, where Angelo insists that the pair must have a candle for their table:

It seems like sort of a “joke” in a way–something that could easily be brushed off if we didn’t all know that TJLC is real. And the candle thing continues to be a theme. Illumination itself is a subtle theme throughout the show, with all the color-coded lights and the fact that Sherlock dubs John his “conductor of light” in “The Hounds of Baskerville.”

I noticed something recently when watching what is surely one of the favorite scenes of all Johnlockers: the reunion of Sherlock and John at The Landmark in the episode “The Empty Hearse.” This is the night Sherlock returns, supposedly from the dead, and interrupts John’s (rather lackluster) attempt to propose to his girlfriend Mary in a rather half-hearted effort to, in his own words, “move on” from Sherlock.

Notice anything missing from John and Mary’s table?

There’s a lamp, sure, but no candle. Maybe that isn’t terribly unusual. But look at the other tables in the restaurant:

Most have candles.

It doesn’t stop there. When Sherlock catches his first (heart-stopping; you can clearly see that in his face, just as it has been pointed out that if you isolate certain audio tracks in this part here you can hear Sherlock’s thudding pulse) glimpse of John after two years away…

how does he see him?

There is a candle placed strategically between them, clearly visible from Sherlock’s vantage point.

This isn’t the only throwback to Angelo’s on this night. If more is needed, I’m including this little bonus below. The writers have done this *so many times,* where certain words and phrases come back again. It isn’t an accident and it isn’t lazy writing. We’re talking about the combined efforts of two very good writers here, and though John’s nerves on this night aren’t exactly hard to pick up on, we get this cherry strategically placed on top:

I SUGGEST YOU DON’T MARRY MARY. 

How could you do that? Hmm? ;)

It’s 2030. Fall out boy have now renamed themselves fall out man and actually turned into one giant meme. Just Brendon’s head is left and when Ryan was asked to be interviewed, he zoomed off into space. My chemical romance have broken up after thirteen years of a reunion era. Tyler has permanently kicked Josh out of the band and in retaliation Josh added Oakley to his Tyler tattoo. Pop punk is retro and the new trend is 2005 Pete wentz eyeliner. Sherlock is on its sixth season and in celebration of doctor who’s 100th season, Moffat told fans that there would be a wholock crossover, releasing posters and trailers but really was just trolling everyone. SPN mysteriously disappeared from existence and all we can say is that it is of supernatural causes. Tumblr has been taken over by Pepe and every blogger must wear frog masks and chant hail Pepe when they go outside. Everyone talks in emoji.

In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions…but not this.

Part two to this post


John answered the door before Sherlock could even text him to let him know of his arrival, and immediately stepped out onto the front steps, already dressed for the cool London air. Sherlock’s eyes fell onto his scarf. His dark blue cashmere scarf. His gaze made John look down too.

“Oh.” He shuffled, “I’d forgotten I ever…” He glanced back up at Sherlock to see him smiling slightly. His neck warmed but he couldn’t help but slowly offer once of his own, “took that..”

Sherlock studied it a moment more then looked out to the street, the streetlamp casting his high cheekbones in stark contrast. John felt the tug. The oh-so familiar tug snug deep inside his chest that he hadn’t felt in so long. That he’d felt for the first time in two years earlier that night. Sherlock’s voice broke his gaze.

“Are we walking then?”

John cleared his throat, “Yes, I thought It’d be more…” he shook his head as they trotted down the steps side by side, “I don’t know what, I thought It’d be nice.”

“Walking is scientifically proven to let blood flow easier, therefore clearing and stimulating the brain at the same time and making it easier for thoughts to form and function…”

Sherlock broke off and fell back next to John, realizing he’d walked a step ahead of him.

“Yes?”

Sherlock tried to study John’s profile, “You usually stop me by now.”

“Oh.” John kept his eyes ahead, “Well, I haven’t heard it in a while.” He glanced at Sherlock, “Might’ve missed it.”

Sherlock nearly fell behind this time. He fought to keep his voice neutral, “Really?”

John let out a little laugh, “I’m going to regret those words.”

“Probably, yes.”

Sherlock watched the neon sign of the 24 hour cafe catch John’s eye, and nodded quietly when he asked if he wanted a tea for the road. He waited, hands clasped behind his back and facing the street while John went in. He felt good about how things were going so far. John seemed… Sherlock closed his eyes. John seemed like he wanted Sherlock to think he was okay. Sherlock almost felt disappointed that John thought he couldn’t see through that.

“Right, two sugars, this one’s yours.”

Sherlock turned, starting slightly. He looked down at John whose cheeks were pink from going from the warm shop to the cold early morning.

John rolled his eyes, eyes crinkling in a smile, “Stop looking at me like that, of course I remembered.”

But Sherlock couldn’t. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop looking at John like that. John who was the only person who bothered to remember how he likes his tea—save Ms. Hudson. John who was the only person in the world who could read, not his thoughts, but his emotions. The only person in the world who acknowledged he even had normal emotions.

John had turned his eyes to the city line, nodding towards it as he blew on his paper cup, “We’re gonna see a nice sunrise.”

Sherlock blinked, attempting to regain his composer, “Ah, yes. Day one back in the land of the living.”

He didn’t miss John’s flinch and instantly regretted his attempt at a joke.

“Do me a favor,” John sighed, “Don’t-“

“I won’t say things like that.”

John studied him for a moment then snorted, mumbling something like “bloody mind reader” as he led the way across the street to a small park with empty benches.

Hardly, John. Hardly.

John chose the bench with the best view of the only barely pinking sky, sitting down with a sigh and crossing his ankles. Sherlock took the seat beside him wordlessly, burning his tongue on his still too hot tea.

“This is… odd, Sherlock.”

“Two people waiting for the a sunrise? I hardly think that’s the definition-“

“Sherlock..” John’s voice was soft, much more serious than before. Sherlock took the hint. They needed this. They needed words—good, solid words—not to dance around each other.

Sherlock nodded once, looking down into his tea, “Yes. Yes, I suppose this is.”

John leaned back against the bench, eyes on the man beside him. Really, odd was not the word to describe this situation but, then again, he’s never been particularly good with words. He was in disbelief. Here he was, watching his best friend—his very dead best friend—sip a cup of tea and joke about watching the sunrise.

“You’ve got terrible timing.” He settled on.

Sherlock straightened, “I gathered that. You know, with the ring and the wine… the restaurant reservations-“

“No,” John laughed, he couldn’t help it, “Well, yes, that is also terrible timing, but I mean longterm.”

Sherlock finally looked back at him, “Longterm?”

John set his cup beside him to cool, “You jump of a bloody building, I-“ John’s chest suddenly feels tight at that hard fact, “I saw you- okay, you’re going to have to tell me-“ He pinched the bridge of his nose, “No, sorry, not the point right now. The point-“ he closed his eyes briefly before turning back to his friend, “is, is that you died but you didn’t. You died… and you let me watch you die, and then you let me grieve and- God, Sherlock… I grieved. I grieved…”

The air is filled with just their breathing for a moment, both labored, both filled with the sting of unshed tears. This is not what friends are suppose to do to one another.

“I wasn’t okay, Sherlock, I was not okay. For so long.” John said between breaths, “I met Mary, honestly pretty recently and she… God, she helped. She helped and I got a little better every day.”

“John-“

“No.” John let out a long breath, “I got better and then you come back and you see me better and that isn’t fair. Because now you have no idea what you did to me. What your death did to me. What losing you…”

John couldn’t finish and turned away, picking up his tea and quickly taking a sip. Sherlock was left breathless and frozen.

“John..” He tried again and this time wasn’t cut off. John’s hand was shaking. He didn’t seem to have any words left for now, “What I- What I said before at the chips place…” Sherlock closed his eyes. His brain felt foggy. Without the usual sharpness he felt bare, unarmed. He forced his eyes open again, pushing against the fog of emotions, “John, I try not to say things I don’t mean. I meant what I said. It was for your protection. I’m not-“ he cut John off when he opened his mouth to speak, “making excuses. I made this mistake. I made this mistake and I’m so, so sorry.”

John’s cup was nearly squashed in his hands from his grip and was in great danger of spilling over. His breathing was labored, his head bowed, “Yes.” He let out a shaky breath, “Yes, well I’m the one who made the mistake of getting use to it.”

Sherlock’s mind immediately reeled, searching for context for the statement, but coming up blank, “Getting use to what?”

John bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment, worrying the skin, before looking back at Sherlock, blue eyes swimming, “You always being there.”

And Sherlock felt it all over again. The cold pavement on his back, John’s fingers on his temporarily stopped pulse, his cries and broken words. Sherlock Holmes, high-functioning sociopath, felt heartbreak for the second time in his life.

“Please…” Sherlock swallowed, both halves of his heart hammering, “Please get used to it again.”

For a split second Sherlock saw John’s jaw clench before it was hidden from view, John’s tea falling to the ground as he dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking.

“John..” Sherlock felt his own voice break. He couldn’t think straight, he was at a loss for words. All he could seem to see in his mind was John. All he could think was that John was hurting and it was his fault. It had been his fault for two years. The ache that settled in after that thought burned like acid.

John’s voice came out muffled and thick, “You have to understand-“

“I do. I do understand, John-“

“No, you don’t.” John was looking up now, eyes rimmed red and burning into Sherlock’s, “You were suddenly gone, and I was suddenly right back where I was before I met you. I couldn’t sleep, I was alone, and every night staring down the fucking barrel of a-“ John closed his eyes turning his head away.

But Sherlock didn’t need him too. His mind had finished the sentence for him and for once he wished he wasn’t so fucking quick. He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t have words but, he decided, right now he didn’t need them.

He reached out, tilting John’s face towards him and, for once, acted without logic, without thinking. He kissed him. He kissed John because he loved him, because he always had, and because it said everything he couldn’t. He kissed him because sorry wasn’t enough—he was sorry, he was in love.

John didn’t freeze like he expected him to. Instead, he reacted like he’d been shocked, touched by fire, and didn’t miss a beat in fisting the collar of Sherlock’s coat, other hand in his hair. He was crying, Sherlock thought maybe he was crying as well, but it didn’t matter. Tears mixed and Sherlock pulled John closer by the waist, his tea joining John’s, forgotten at their feet.

When they parted they were breathing hard and the sky was a brilliant orange and red. John didn’t say anything, just leaned his face into Sherlock’s neck where Sherlock could feel him breathing. It was the most comforting thing in the world and Sherlock let his eyes slipped closed, feeling like he’d been waiting for this for an eternity. And, for that moment, everything felt okay. Or like it would be.

For that moment, it was just the two of them against the world. Once again.


Tagging some people who wanted to be tagged! Thanks for reading :) @deathfrisbee-221b @unrelentinghost @theodduckling and some other people who commented and might want to be tagged? ily! @yoonrey @swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool @sherlockfandomtandem

Mary's death scene in tst

Ok I’ve always wondered this but is the reason why Martin i-won-a-bafta Freeman did such an awkward performance in Mary’s death scene because he and Amanda broke up and that completely messed up their chemistry on set too?

I mean Martin is hands down talented. Exhibit A: the Sherlock reunion scene in teh. No words. All face journey. And it’s so powerful and a believable performance. So….what happened in the tst death scene? He performed the anger towards Sherlock so perfectly. The complexity of regret and anger and sadness and despair when he looked at Sherlock and said “you swore it”, god the chemistry between Martin’s acting and Ben’s acting was so brilliant. And YET in that same scene his chemistry with Amanda’s acting fell flat to me.

I’m not talking about the “mooing”. I’m talking about how the entire time Mary was trying to say her final words to John and Sherlock, all John did was look at her but he seemed to be not really paying attention to her? And he’s just constantly shushing her when she’s trying to talk, no matter how many times I watch it, the shushing thing just felt off and weird. Amanda and Benedict’s acting dynamic in that scene was perfectly in line, Mary is trying to apologise in her own way and Sherlock forgiving her and clearly distraught by her dying before his eyes. But when it came to Martin and Amanda’s chemistry in this scene, Mary was saying “John you were my whole world” and in return the timing of John’s shushing felt so out of place. And I just wonder: why is this so awkward to watch? It’s usually so immersive thanks to their amazing acting, but this time, something about Martin and Amanda’s dynamic specifically was so unhinged that it pulled me out of the immersive story and instead of seeing John and Mary, I see Martin and Amanda - two actors acting. And that, when an audience ends up seeing “actors acting” instead of seeing the character, that’s not usually a good sign isn’t it

In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.

Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.

The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.

He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.

Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.

“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”

Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”

Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”

Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”

Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?

“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”

Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…

And the waiting had begun.

Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.

He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.

It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.

Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…

Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.

But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.

It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.

Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.

John

The screen said John.

Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.

He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”

Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”

The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”

You’re awake.”

Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”

“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.

Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.

“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”

Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”

John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“

“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“

“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”

He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“

“I don’t joke.”

Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“

“John. I’m okay-“

“Well, you were dead this morning!”

John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.

“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re-“

“I wanted to tell you so many times-“

“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”

Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”

A beat of silence, “What?”

Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”

The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“

“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”

“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”

“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”

Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”

Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“

“Right, can we not say goodbye?”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”

“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.

Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.

“See you soon, John.”

Flowers at the Johnlock reunion in TEH

The flower at John and Mary’s table during the Johnlock reunion in TEH is a gerbera, a radiant fluffy daisy-like flower.

Gerbera is associated with pure happiness; the flower is believed to lessen one’s pain and sorrows. => Sherlock’s return relieves John from his terrible grief and will bring joy and thrill in his life again. Reciprocally, Sherlock is overjoyed to be back with John Watson.

The Egyptians linked the flower to devotion to the Sun. Sun = John in the show.

Sherlock’s entire purpose in this scene is his devotion to John and bring him happiness and excitement (trying to delightfully surprise him, trying to make him laugh, “The two of us versus the rest of the world”…).

The gerbera’s meaning is happiness and gratefulness towards life. White gerbera in particular is associated with innocence and childlike purity:

  • Sherlock’s childlike behaviour with John; claiming his attention, making inappropriate jokes and being sure he’ll be the centre of his life again?
  • A contrast between Sherlock and Mary, and John’s affection for the two: innocent and pure love for Sherlock, darker repressed, almost forced, feelings for Mary?

The contrasting symbolism could explain why the flower seems much darker when associated with Mary (it loses all its light):

Fun fact: like sunflowers (they belong to the same family), gerberas always turn towards the sun … Except that for this scene, the flower faces Sherlock, always, not John…

Perhaps because John has lost his luminous and warm side when he believed in Sherlock’s death? Or John may be too overwhelmed by Sherlock’s return to feel pure happiness yet; Sherlock is the overjoyed one, John is still struggling with his emotions.


The evolution of the flower throughout the reunion scene is also very interesting:

- Fully-bloomed and radiant as John realises Sherlock is alive and Sherlock thinks he’s going to be fully reunited with John.

*bonus: Sherlock holds his metaphorical boner => the bottle of Champagne (a phallic form containing a luxurious delicate sparkly golden liquid) he has chosen/pulled out for John to “surprise” him => “I think I’ll surprise John…. perhaps I’ll jump out of a cake!”… the continuity of the sexual metaphor!

*double bonus: throughout the scene, round light = love (@just-sort-of-happened’s amazing meta!) stands between John and Sherlock (+ the bottle). There is love and lust between the two men! :)

- Three flowers at the second restaurant => Mary has successfully managed to insert herself in the dynamic, beginning of the sign of threes & multiple love triangles.

Mary is effectively preventing the complete emotional reunion between the two men (and stops them from being themselves). Sherlock understands he might not be welcome in John’s new life and John feels utterly betrayed.

Notice the flowers have begun to close, they look much less vibrant there. The scene is not about happiness and rebirth anymore. This is about amends and making do, but nobody is happy.

I believe the flowers are chrysanthemums, a flower associated with mourning and recovery after a long trial or challenge (John’s belief in Sherlock’s death; John’s struggles with his trust in Sherlock and trying to protect himself by moving on with Mary; Sherlock feeling abandoned by John). These three flowers are also associated to loyalty and affection, highlighting the notion of love triangles.

Also, iirc, the flowers are shown only at the beginning of the scene… They’re not visible for most of the scene, hidden behind a lamp (a square one, not a round light of love => Mary’s presence is spoiling John and Sherlock’s relationship)

- No flower (nor any decoration) in the last restaurant: Mary has won (for now), the two men part on extremely negative feelings. John and Sherlock are both deeply hurt and shaken, they feel betrayed. They don’t know how to position themselves with each other.

A true emotional reunion will take place “underground”, with the metaphor of a heart ready to burst until 1:29 happens and true forgiveness from John.

However, Mary has changed the game and her presence will prevent John and Sherlock to be truly together. Right now, it’s not about radiant happiness, it’s about recovering and proving themselves.

Inspired by @isitandwonder, @ebaeschnbliah and @bug-catcher-in-viridian-forest. Also tagging @byebyefrost, @tjlcisthenewsexy, @green-violin-bow (hi!) as it might interest you lovelies! <3

2

OTP MEME: [2/3] funny scenes
> The Abominable Bride

“This is clearly man’s work. Where is he?”

Reichenbach - A Study in Johnlock. Part 3 - The Reunion

This is the third and last part of my Reichenbach study (read part 1 and 2 here X and here X) . Maybe I will add another post with some conclusions but first we shall look at the return of Sherlock Holmes and his reunion with John Watson. 

We all know how the reunion happens in Canon - Holmes taking off his disguise, Watson fainting, Holmes opening his collar and reviving his friend with brandy, everyone happy. But as Moftiss have pointed out, this is not a very realistic scenario. 

So let’s have a look at the adaptations I already examined in part 1 and 2 - with the exception of Ritchie Holmes since we are still waiting for the third film showing us the reunion. 

I will start again with Rathbone Holmes which - not very surprising - is the least dramatic of them all. A postman brings a parcel to Watson. He says something a bit not good about Holmes, gets whacked by Watson, and only now reveals himself. Watson is comforted with a sip from a hip flask and a friendly shoulder pat.

Then we have the new Russian Holmes. Here we get a different story altogether. Because - spoiler! - it’s sometimes twins. Mycroft and Sherlock, that is. Or at least they could be twins. 

When Sherlock returns, he pretends to be Mycroft. After an investigation Watson takes him home to serve him coffee as Mycroft is totally drunk. When he starts swearing, Watson definitely knows that this is the other Holmes and punches him. Then we get a faint but not from Holmes but from Mrs Hudson who has become Mrs Watson by now. After she has been revived and Holmes answers with a sassy “Sorry for being alive!” she whacks him as well. So there is a clear parallel with TEH except here it is played mainly for comedy. Afterwards Holmes gets the opportunity to explain what he happened. Here we get a prolonged reunion scene but free from any romantic undertones and with a strong comic element. 

This is the reunion scene from Granada Holmes, “The Empty House”. It is very close to Canon with Holmes attending the surgery dressed as the old bookseller. He reveals himself prompting Watson’s faint. Holmes revives his friend with a sip of brandy and loving stroke to his face. Watson is happy as a clam and shows Holmes the Reichenbach letter which he had framed and keeps in his study. Watson is happy to hear Holmes’s story and more than eager to start their next adventure together. There is no anger, no bitterness. (We should keep in mind what Moftiss said about this version being implausible. On the other hand we should remember that Canon Holmes did not pretend to commit suicide in front of Watson).


Now for the older Russian Holmes version. As shown before, we have a highly emotional Watson. He faints dramatically. We get a heartfelt hug which Holmes returns. And then something I have not seen in any other adaptation: Holmes overcome by his feelings and starting to cry. This is maybe the most emotional reunion, dominated by happiness, without any violent reaction. This is why I would rank it second after BBC Sherlock because it gives us an important part of the emotions one would expect: relief, sheer happiness, both men being moved to tears. But of course this is only one half of the emotions one might expect. What is missing here is rightful anger, the feeling of betrayal, of having been excluded. 

Now for BBC Sherlock. We get the same pattern as with the fall and the aftermath - everything on a grander scale, more dramatic, more emotional, more realistic, more personal. 

Sherlock appearing in a thin disguise - hiding in plain sight - before revealing himself to John. But there is no faint here, no tears, no overwhelming joy, but violence, bitterness, grief, anger. As Moftiss said, this is how a man would realistically react to what he must feel is the ultimate betrayal. John Watson is a heartbroken man, even when he proposes to his girlfriend and even after Sherlock is back. And what do we see after Sherlock’s bravado has evaporated? Helplessness and shame. 

Followed by the violent reactions of John to respectively Sherlock’s inappropriate joke, his admission that lots of people knew about the fake suicide while John did not, and, finally, to Sherlock’s attempt of luring John into his world again, of appealing to his love for danger and adventure (and maybe his love for Sherlock, too.)

But of course this is still not enough because Sherlock craves forgiveness which John is not willing to grant. We get a first heartfelt “I am sorry” after the bonfire night, a second desperate attempt in the tube carriage, and another apology months later during the best man speech in TSoT. 

And TAB shows us that at least in his mind Sherlock is still not over his faked death and what it did to John. The whole disaster of series 3 - the engagement, the marriage, being shot by John’s wife, the less than credible reconciliation, Magnussen’s death, Sherlock’s exile - has been caused by Reichenbach. Its reverberations are not over. 

In BBC Sherlock Reichenbach turns into a trauma - because it separates the two people who belong together, because it disturbs the whole dynamic of their relationship, the balance of the show. And this imbalance extends into series 4. It still has to be solved. Reichenbach is not over. 

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Oh my god… Sherlock doesn’t know John came to visit him after work the very next day because he wanted to see him? John got abducted and Mary knew where he’d been, but Sherlock didn’t? Sherlock thinks John came to see him only after he recovered from the bonfire incident to find out more information on that and discuss the case. There’s no way John would’ve said “I got abducted outside your flat because i couldn’t go 24 hours without seeing you”. Sherlock thinks their reunion is because of the case, because of the work. Fuck me.

You know what I want to see? Mrs. Hudson’s and Sherlocks reunion. We got to see the bit where she was screaming, but I imagine after that she would be crying and Sherlock would gently say, “It’s me, I’m okay”. He would be so reassuring and soft and we would hug her and kiss her on the cheek until she calmed down. She would try to scold him but she would be too happy to do it in earnest.

vimeo

Scenes without background music: John and Sherlock before the reunion scene

Victor Frankenstein: So gay! Not completely horrible! Also, weird Sherlock cast reunion!??

Ok, so I just went and saw Victor Frankenstein totally expecting it to be ridiculous, amped-up Victorian, steampunk trash and it was like…. not as ridiculously terrible as I thought it was going to be!

I mean the one female character had a very, very small role but she was not completely objectified and neglected by the plot, she had like a tiny bit of agency that we got to witness! (Also, she was played by Jessica Brown Findlay who I have a huuuuuuge crush on)

And essentially the subtext of the movie (or not even subtext- just text!) was like… Frankenstein could have been redeemed if he had had gay love! I mean… friendship! Which is… I mean, same difference right? Or at least same difference for the purposes of this film, in terms of the role the relationship played. 

The movie was delightfully slashy and the beautiful thing was regardless of whether or not the two characters ever slept together (which, let’s be real, they totally did after that drunken science chalk drawing whiskey-induced montage… ESPECIALLY after that pocket watch convo- WHERE IS THE FIC? I might have to write it myself….) what changed Victor Frankenstein as a character in this portrayal is the fact that he had a moral conscience in the form of his friend, Igor (D.Rad’s character). He had someone who had enough empathy and humanity to sit him down and be like, “Listen–this is why this is a terrible, terrible idea.”

Basically, like if Frankenstein had had an equally freaky genius science bestie who he rescued from the circus, he totally would have been ok!

And that, my friends, is kind of beautiful.

(And also, like I said, provided for soooooooo much fic potential!)

The very last delightful surprise of this film was the fact that it was like a fuckin SHERLOCK CAST AND PRODUCTION TEAM REUNION!!!!

Andrew Scott played the chief detective on the case, Louise Brealey made an appearance as a scandalized lady at a club, and Mark Gatiss was like RANDOMLY THERE AT THE END AS SOME GERMAN SCIENTIST WEARING STEAM PUNK GOGGLES???? (And whose role was never explained.)

And then! The fucking credits roll and THE WHOLE DAMN THING WAS DIRECTED BY PAUL MCGUIGAN (who directed A Study in Pink, The Great Game, Hounds AND Scandal!!!)

Oh also- I’m sorry- added bonus, was the blonde, wealthy, cane-wielding, smug, aristocrat who basically WAS Draco Malfoy (or some very near relative of the Malfoy clan). 

So yeah- Victor Frankenstein? Kind of a mess in a lot of ways, but also, kind of delightful, and totally worth seeing!

TEH: Sherlock and Halal

iwaslookingforfood 

hi there! i think i just spotted something you may be interested in. i’m not a meta writer and i’m terribly sorry if my explanation is not clear but i’m not that great of a story teller anyway. so in TEH after John went home with Mary Sherlock was standing in front of the restaurant sign that read ‘Halal’ which is an arabic word (it was the one written twice and it was red) that means “permitted” (source here actually speaks arabic and is a muslim. therefore i know this since i was a kid) and i checked the english definition of it to be sure and it said (and i quote):“ Halal is Arabic for permissible”. as for a native speaker and on a day to day basis Halal means something right to do, something good. that being said, he was standing in front of the Halal sign and looking at john and well my explaining abilities stop there i guess it just means that a relationship with john for sherlock is the right thing to do, that it is a good thing to do. i’m so sorry if i’m wasting your time but my point is that Halal means good, something right to do. i feel like you would do a much better job of putting the thought out there and explaining it than me. i just wanted to point it out  because it is something that was most familiar to me and i kept thinking about it for quite some time now until i decided that i should share it with you so if it’s important you can maybe say something about it or i don’t know! just thanks for your time and your patience for coming to understand my shitty explanation!


Hey!! No no no, don’t apologize!! You are a more credible source than I ever will be since I am not a native speaker of that language! Thank you so much for the insight and for teaching me something new!! Nuances of language always intrigues me, especially when it’s a hidden background detail in the series that supposedly may or may not be important.

I recall seeing SOMETHING about the restaurants but for the life of me cannot remember what the meta were discussing, so let’s bring this back here :)

This observation is really interesting to me, especially since they framed it so Sherlock is standing directly between them. While I want to say that it’s completely meaningless that these signs are directly in frame, with someone on the crew like Arwel, I doubt it was just a coincidence this happened. 

So taking into account what you say it means, I’ve a few theories, possibly it meaning one or all of the following:

  • This moment right here symbolizes that Sherlock has finally understood what he has done was terribly horribly the wrong thing to do, and now wishes to make things right with John;
  • Sherlock is ‘permitting’ Mary to mediate their friendship, because he thinks that John actually does need Mary to talk him ‘round and thinks it’s the right thing to do to let Mary take over;
  • He is permitting John to come back to him at his own pace, that he knows it’s right to allow John to feel hurt;
  • Sherlock is allowing himself to let John go, and accept that John may have moved on.

Yeah. They’re all kinda sad, but this episode was literally Sherlock realizing the huge mistake he made and trying to fix it 

As an aside and a completely unrelated note, this cap right here, arrows notwithstanding, is ART. Beautiful framing, putting all the dark off to the far side, and the light taking up a large chunk of negative space, almost like Sherlock, dark with sadness and loneliness, stares wistfully into the light. 

GUH. So beautiful and sad.

You're Only a Dream Now

        John sat in his armchair, staring numbly at the faded chair across from him. A year. It had been a year since he last saw his friend sitting there, curled up cat-like and yelling at the telly. John swallowed hard and turned his dull gaze down, instead staring at the two teacups sitting on the table in front of him. The one closest to him was almost empty; only cold dregs wallowed at the bottom. The one opposite him sat full, frigid, and forlorn.

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