Four years ago we released our first podcast.

We’re now up to 63 + specials & have interviewed everyone from Sherlock actors to authors to fabulous members of the Sherlockian world. Thank you for coming along on this journey with us, it’s been a delight. We’ve been so lucky to be part of such a vibrant and creative fandom. It’s changed many of our lives, and for that we have you to thank.

Whether we’re throwing events for you all, hosting giveaways, or just providing content you enjoy, we cannot thank you enough for being our audience, our collaborators, and our friends.

Here’s to many more years! 


-Anon request

Take me down to the Paradise City
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty,
Oh, won’t you please take me home,” you sung quietly to yourself, as you struggled under your shopping and tried to find your car keys in your purse.

Just an urchin livin’ under the street
I’m a hard case that’s tough to beat
I’m your charity case, so buy me something to eat
I’ll pay you at another ti-
” you stopped when you heard a twig snap behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could the opening of a street alley but you couldn’t see further than that.

Your heart started to speed up but you swallowed it down and ignored the prickling feeling at the back of your neck that told you, you were being watched.

I’ll pay you another time
Take it to the end of the lin-”

That time you definitely heard a foot fall behind you.

Just about to turn around and face whatever it was- it was probably a fox or something- you turned around when a heavy hand clamped firmly over your mouth. You screamed at the top of your lungs, though it was almost completely muffled by the gloved hand.

Feeling a bit dizzy, you realised you could smell something chemical-like on the hand. Shit, you thought to yourself, that’s not good. Blinking heavy eyelids, whatever was on the glove was making you slip steadily into unconsciousness.

In a last ditch effort, you sunk your teeth into the hand and your attacker shouted in pain, dropping his hold on you for long enough that you slipped around your car and was about to run at full pelt when you felt him grab you again.

Something sharp and cold pressed against your throat and you froze.

This was it. This was the end. You were going to be killed in the street by a faceless psycho.

That was a really shitty ending.

But then you heard someone shouting.

“Stop!” they cried. “Get away from her!”

Your attacker turned you both around and you saw two men- one tall with dark curly hair waving a hand gun, and the other shorter with lighter brown hair- running towards you. Without pause, the taller of the two slammed himself into the attacker and threw you both to the ground.

The fair-haired man helped you up and you both watched as the other man wrestled the knife man on the ground, finally beating him in the head with the butt of the gun and standing up, panting.

He brushed himself down and turned to you with a worn smile. “Hello there, I’m Sherlock, you can thank me later.”

“Huh,” you managed, before fainting right into the shorter man’s arms.


Sherlockian Wednesday Watchalong: M is for May

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Rathbone Holmes)

Moriarty breaking into the Tower of London to steal the Crown Jewels? You’ve seen that before. But what Holmes does at a party? You’ve never seen anything quite like it.

We’ll watch The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939), and chat about it live tonight at 8:30 pm US Eastern time (click for your local date/time).

Anyone is welcome to join us, even if you’re just seeing this post randomly out in the tags.

See you this evening in The Giant Chat of Sumatra!

Or if you can’t make it tonight, check out the weekend “rerun” schedule.

The Last Night

A handcuffed Sherlock Holmes followed two security officers out of a black car. While one officer removed his restraints, he stared up at the ageing apartment building before him, eyes zeroing in on a third floor window. He met the gaze of the other officer, who joined them after speaking to the driver, and answered the question in her eyes with a nod. Flanked by his guards, he headed for the street entrance. The detective heard the car pull away from the kerb as he pressed the call button labelled ‘Hooper’.

“Yes?” the pathologist responded.

“Molly, it’s Sherlock.”

Read the full story on or on AO3.

Summary: It’s Sherlock’s last night in England, and he decides to spend it with the person that mattered the most. Will he find the courage to tell her how he feels about her before he leaves for Eastern Europe? One-shot. Could be a prequel to I Am Yours.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: There’s a little bit of Kiliel (Kili x Tauriel) in this. 😜

Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. I welcome reviews and constructive criticism.

After six long months, I finally finished this fic. Yay!

The Last Night is dedicated to all of my 900+ followers. Thank you for clicking the Follow button and for staying with me. I love you all!

Hope y’all like this one!

Person A is in bed with their spouse, Person B, having nightmares about the war. Person C appears in the dream saying, ‘want to see some more?’ Gasping 'Oh god, yes!’, Person A wakes up longing for Person C so much, they take on Person C’s actual personality, much to the irritation of their spouse, Person B. Is Person A’s problem missing the war? Or something deeper?