the bride is a baker

Remember in The Six Thatchers

we were shown images like this:

And like this:

Making Sherlock himself appear as a stand-in for the busts,

Alluding to the idea that he (as a person) or he (as a historical figure) has a secret inside somewhere and through the breaking down of layers will we finally find what’s been hiding there all along,

BUT THEN you remember there are six busts that are owned by only five people, the fourth victim owned TWO,

And the fourth victim is the only one who was murdered

And now we’re shown that the person hiding the information in the busts was desperate, so desperate they would kill the holder of the busts to keep their secret from escaping, they would kill the fourth owner who had two busts

So here we are noticing this doesn’t follow The Nix Napoleons, Harker didn’t own two busts in that one but this Harker does, and she is the fourth

It makes no sense for Ajay who’s looking for the busts to wait until the second-to-last person to attempt to smash two busts at once. Harker should have been his very first stop, since there was a higher probability that she had the flashdrive. She was the fourth stop. Changing the order doesn’t affect the show at all, Harker could have been first, Welsborough second, Hassan third, and so on to make the episode still make sense. But why include a character that owned two busts at all? Why add that detail? For time, perhaps, but they didn’t need to do that, they could have had six people own six busts and follow the trail the same way. 


They gave the fourth owner two busts, then killed her. 

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Sherlock special
  • Sherlock & John: *has a special moment while John points a gun at Moriarty*
  • Moriarty: *inbetween sherlock and john* ugh why don't you two just make love for God's sake

Imagine Mr. Holmes talking with Sherlock after your break up.

-Dad, everthing’s fine. - he put his coat on and sighed.

-Fine? Sherlock, this is not fine. - he scolded.

-I moved on. She’s better without me.

-Listen, that girl..that girl was everything for us. She loved you and I bet she still does.

-Oh, come on. Stop pretending that you care about her. - he said as he turned his coat collar up.

-Sherlock, you told us you were going to propose to her! - he pointed at Sherlock. - Your mother and I thought she was the right one. Why? - he yelled - Why did you break up with her?

Sherlock freezed and got speechless. He tried to formulate an answer but it was too difficult for him. The detective thought about what he said to you last night. He couldn’t pretend not to be in love with you. It was impossible. He loved you but he didn’t know how to fix what he has done.

Finally, he found the right word to explain why he did that to you.

-I…I…I’m a coward. - he mumbled as his father looked at him astonishingly. - I was afraid. I didn’t know how to do it; it’s definetely not my area. In fact, I don’t even know how marriage works. I’m just los-

-Why don’t you go, buy a ring, kneel down and say nice words? - he commented.

-Nice words? - he frowned. - What do you mean?

-Why do you want her to be your wife? - he asked as he put his hands on his hips and stared at Sherlock.

-Because I don’t want her to leave. I want her to be with me. I want her to be everyday by my side. - he muttered those beautiful and meaningful words.

-So why don’t you try with those words? - he said as he chuckled. - Son, you have so much to learn about.

-Sorry, what?

-Say exactly those words to her and show her the ring. That’ll do. - he said and hugged his son. - If she says ‘yes’, I bet you, Sherlock, you’ll be happy for the rest of your life. - he whispered in Sherlock’s ear.

-Thank you. - he smiled.


Mini Replica of 221B Baker Street, BBC’s Sherlock

Handmade 3D Artist Trading Card, Buy Here: 


Sherlock : The Great Game Imagine
Imagine if the little boy from the great game was replaced by the reader (Sherlock’s girlfriend who solves cases alongside both him and Watson) and Sherlock finds a way to save her.
Word count: 2998
Trigger warning: mention of gun shot inflicted wound
The pink phone rang in Sherlock’s pocket. 
“Hello?” He spoke with impatience as it interrupted.
He was at the gallery, confronting the curator. He was confident the painting was a fake. At the other end of the phone was the voice of a female. What was unusual was that she wasn’t crying, only trembling. 
“Have you solved my puzzle?” You spoke into the phone, repeating after the voice from ear piece placed in your ear. You told Sherlock and John you’d stay behind at 221B while they went to the gallery. Somehow you were knocked out cold and woke up wearing a bomb. You weren’t whimpering or sobbing, it was as if you weren’t afraid…or maybe you just had a lot of confidence in Sherlock. Sherlock realised what was happening at once. 
“Y/N?” he spoke with a sense of urgency. Sherlock was obviously alarmed, he hadn’t expected this to happen. Lestrade’s eyes widened in horror when he finally understood. “ It’s Y/N, oh god”. John was at a loss of what to do. Sherlock knew he had to do something. He couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.
“The painting is a fake! It’s a fake! That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. Oh come on, proving it’s just a detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it, I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake—that’s the answer, that’s why they were killed.” There was no reply in the ear piece. Naturally, you didn’t speak either. Any wrong move could get you and anyone near by killed and you couldn’t risk anything like that. Sherlock was getting nervous. The Great Sherlock Holmes was worried over you. He cared. He cared about you.
“Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?” The voice in the year piece started the count down. “Ten” you said slowly, starting to doubt you’d make it. Please, Sherlock, please help me.
“Ten. It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.” But was ten seconds enough? “Jesus!” Lestrade exclaimed. “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How? ” Sherlock needed to get this right. He needed to save you. 
“Nine…Eight …” Come on, Sherlock, come on! You were starting to lose hope. “Y/N will die. I can’t let that happen. She will die because of me. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me! ” Sherlock raised voice. He was worried. He was angry. 
“Seven …” You started to count slower. You can do this, Sherlock. “No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out.” He gestured for the curator to shut up. Sherlock turned back to the painting. He thought hard. He needed this. He couldn’t lose you. He was determined to prove the painting was fake, frustrated that he just couldn’t figure it out. Unable to stand the tension, John began to pace around. The thought of losing you was frightening. He tried to block it out, so did Lestrade. “Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face.” 
“Six … ” Shit, Sherlock hurry up! “Come on. ” John tried to calm himself down. The thought of losing you was daunting, and it was about to become a reality in just a few seconds. “Woodbridge knew, but how?” 
“ Five …” Your counting was speeding up as you followed the voice from the ear piece. “It’s speeding up!” Lestrade tensed up. “Sherlock.” John muttered. Come on, Do this for Y/N. You can’t lose her. Sherlock thought to himself. Sherlock couldn’t lose you. You were one of his only friends, and his girlfriend. “Oh!” His mouth fell open. 
“Four … Three…” Yes! Sherlock did it! “In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!” “What’s Brilliant? What is?” John was lost. “This is beautiful. I love this! ” he grinned triumphantly, having solved it. 
“Two …” Come on, Sherlock, do it already! “Sherlock!” Lestrade was urged Sherlock. “The Van Buren Supernova!” Sherlock yelled into the phone. “ Sherlock, help me!” You screamed into the phone. Before he could reply and before you could say anything else, you realised a gun was held to your head.
It was Molly’s boyfriend. It dawned on you. Jim. Jim Moriarty.
He took the phone and spoke into it. “ Well Done, Sherlock”
“What did you do to her!” Sherlock yelled into the phone.
“ Why are you doing this” Sherlock asked. “Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were meant for each other, Sherlock. Did you enjoy my game?” He hung up. You looked up at him, he had a cruel, deranged smile plastered across
his face. “Why” you whimpered before he knocked you out with the butt of his gun. 
The next thing you remembered was waking up to the smell of chlorine. The voice in the ear piece told you to walk out, where you found Sherlock waiting. “Brought you a little “getting to know you” present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” You heard Sherlock speak.
“Evening. This is a turn up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” You copied exactly as the voice in the the ear piece said. You saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes, he was hurt, he was lost. He looked like a little lost child for a second, confused. Then he saw the explosives under your jacket. “Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o’ geer. Gottle o’ Geer…” 
“Stop it.” Sherlock snapped. “Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop your dear Y/N too. Stop her heart.” You whimpered, you felt like a pawn, any wrong move and you’re dead. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned. 
“I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?” Jim appeared across the pool with a smirk on his face. “Both.” Sherlock replied.
“Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point. Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock—just a teensy glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.” He cooed, something about him made your hair stand in its edge.
“Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister.” “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.” Was Sherlock’s reply. 
“Just so.”
“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.” 
“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.”
“I did.” 
“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” 
“Thank you” 
“ Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Yes you did.”
You kept as silent as possible this whole time, listening attentively to their conversation. 
“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve shown you what I can do. I’ve cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” Moriarty sang.
“People have died” Sherlock pointed out.
“That’s what people DO!” Moriarty shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. You flinched at his scream. Both men seemed to have noticed your reaction. Moriarty gave you a wide grin, your fate depended on him. Sherlock’s green/ blue eyes gazed into yours as an attempt to comfort you. 
“I will stop you.” He said. “No you won’t.
“You all right?” Sherlock looked at you, obviously worried.
“You can talk, Y/N, sweetheart. Go ahead.” You didn’t dare to speak. 
“Take it.” Sherlock passed Moriarty a memory stick.
“ Hm? Oh, that. The missile plans. Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” Moriarty tossed the memory stick into the pool. Taking the chance, you grabbed Moriarty by his neck and screamed “Sherlock run!”. 
To your surprise, Moriarty simply cooed “ Oh! Good. Very good.” You said “Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up.” 
“ She’s sweet, I can see why you like having her around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touching and loyal. But oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, my dear Y/N . Gotcha!” The red sight on your jacket movies to Sherlock’s head. You had to let go. 
“Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you.” He seemed unfazed. 
“Oh let me guess, I get killed.” 
“ Kill you? Eh, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don’t stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.” 
“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” 
Upon hearing that, Moriarty instantly replied “But we both know that’s not quite true.” As if to demonstrate his point, more laser sights moved to your jacket and you whimpered as you closed your eyes. Sherlock’s eyes softened. They looked anxious and afraid. The great Sherlock Holmes, afraid. At least you knew he cared. That he still valued your relationship, that he still loved you. You knew he cared even though he claimed not to. Why else would he be here? Why else would he personally come for you? 
“Well. I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.” Moriarty sang. 
“What if I were to shoot you now? Right now.” 
“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Moriarty proudly left.
“Catch you… later.” Sherlock said. 
“No you won’t!” Moriarty only chirped.
As he left, Sherlock frantically ripped the vest off you and slid it as far from you as possible, “Alright? Are you all right?!” He pulled you into a tight hug. 
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sherlock— Sherlock! Are you okay?” 
“ Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah— thing that you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good. But please don’t go it again. I can’t afford to lose you” Sherlock’s eyes were sincere. He was relieved that you were no longer in danger. 
“I’m glad no one saw that.” You attempted to lighten the mood. 
“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” You joked. 
“People do little else.” You grinned at his reply. 
Then, the laser sights returned, this time there were more.
“Sorry boys! I’m soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. Not again, you thought. 
“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock replied, moving his gun down to the level of the explosives. Moriarty’s smirk disappeared. 
Before you knew what happeneed, a sharp pain ran through your body and you collapsed to your knees. Grasping your stomache in pain, you screamed out as you realised that you had been shot. Sherlock immediately lowered his gun to run to your side. 
“Shit!” Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he held you in his arms. You heard Moriarty say something before he waved off his men and left. The laser sights disappeared again. 
“ Y/N! Sherlock!” You heard John’s voice as entered the pool. He had followed Sherlock here, you thought. “Call a taxi, quick!” Sherlock shouted at John. 
Everything was a blur as Sherlock carried you (bridal style) into the taxi and screamed frantically for the driver to fetch the, to the nearest hospital. John checked the gunshot wound and attempted to stop the bleeding but to no avail. “She’s losing a lot of blood” John said, you could hear the anxious tone from his voice. 
“Could you drive faster, PLEASE” Sherlock raised his voice. It was obvious that he was very worried. You recalled that earlier that day, he claimed he found it easy not to care. That this was all a game, the people were merely pawns. You were a pawn. Sherlock felt nothing for those people, it was just a game. He enjoyed playing this game. He told you not to make people into heroes and that heroes didn’t exist. He said that if they do, he wouldn’t be one of them. But Sherlock came for you, not because it was a game. The moment he picked up the phone and realised that your life was at stake, it was no longer a game. Sherlock cared deeply about you, and he solved the problem,he solved it for you, he saved you. Sherlock was your hero. Tears welled up in your eyes, you were beginning to feel faint. 
“Hey, Stay with me, don’t you dare close your eyes, are you even listening to me?” Sherlock cooed into your ear. He was still holding you in his arms, with you partially lying on his lap. You leaned into his embrace and lay your head right under his chin. He wrapped one arm around you and grasped your hand desperately with his other hand. He held you tightly, he didn’t want to let go. His warmth was comforting, it was somewhat soothing. You were comfortable in his embrace.
“ Sherlock, do you still remember that night you told me you fancied me?” You let out a chuckle through the pain. “ you were so confused and… and you took everything like a game, like you had to deduce yourself that you must indeed be interested in me to be feeling those emotions, do you still feel the same way?” You whimpered as you felt a sharp pain and grasped your wound. 
Sherlock squeezed your hand and replied “ I do, I still feel the same. I love you, I can’t lose you now, please don’t leave me. I never thought I’d fall in love until I met you. i’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. Please don’t die now. It’s all my fault, I should have noticed Moriarty would get you, I should have. We should have never been together.” a tear rolled down Sherlock’s cheek. You looked up at him and wiped off his tear with your thumb, adding “Hey, look at me. Don’t say that, I never regretted the times we spent together. I’ll cherish the times John, you and I solved cases together… and the sense of achievement I’d get from it” John gazed at your eyes, it seemed as if he was about to cry too. Beads of tears trickled down your boiling cheeks. 
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me” Sherlock replied, it sounded almost as if he was sobbing. 
“ Look at you, the great Sherlock Holmes, letting his emotions get to him, the great Sherlock Holmes is heartbroken. This is what Moriarty wants, he wants to tear you apart, and your letting him do it. Don’t cry” You gave him a weak smile. It took you a lot of effort to even say those things. You winced in pain as you felt yourself drifting away. 
Sherlock lifted your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Your lips moved in sync, it felt sad though, it might just be your last kiss. Then Sherlock pulled away, he gazed deeply into your eyes. You could see the affection in his eyes, he obviously cared about you. You also saw sadness and anxiety. “Look, Y/N, if you make it through this, I promise we’ll get married” He seemed entirely serious. You chuckled “ Sherlock, you’re always so childish and impulsive. Are you proposing to me right now?” 
“I’m serious, Y/N.” came his reply. You realised how much he valued you. He loved you dearly, it was all so clear now. 
“ Look Sherlock, I’m not ready to die yet. I promise you I won’t leave you or John okay?” You gave him a weak smile, a failed attempt to comfort him. It wasn’t up to you to decide your fate, but you were determined to see Sherlock and John again. You felt Sherlock hug you tighter and you drifted away in his embrace. 
You woke up to the sound of the hospital equipment beating. You were alright, at least you didn’t die. Familiar faces surrounded you — there was Lestrade by the corner near the door, Mrs Hudson and John by the end of the hospital bed. Sherlock was by your side. He squeezed your hand tightly and helped you get up. You winced as you felt the sharp pain from your wound, Sherlock was extremely gentle with you. 
“What time is it?” You asked. 
“8.30. You slept for a day. Feel better?”
He gave you a small smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You attempted to pull him into a hug.
“ Did you stay with me this whole time?” You asked.
“He refused to do anything else” John helped to reply.
“We’ll give you two some time” said Mrs Hudson as she and the others left the room. John walked towards the door before turning back. “Hamish… John Hamish Watson… If you’re looking for baby names”. Sherlock and you turned towards each other and broke into relieved smiles.

Originally posted by 33-reren

Imagine Sherlock and John fighting for you.

“So, you have to have to attend a crime scene tonight,” you pointed at Sherlock. “And you were invited to a party,” you pointed at John as he smiled.

“Want to come?” They asked simultaneously and then exchanged strange gazes.

“I thought you said ‘no’, John,” Sherlock scolded.

“And I thought you told her that you were just best friends!” John complained.

“Well…it’s fairly obvious that she prefers me!”

“Oh no, mate. How would a person like Y/N like a sociopath?”

“High functioning sociopath,” you corrected John as you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Thanks,” Sherlock thanked.

“Oh, you stupid bastard! She’s mine,” John scolded as he jumped on Sherlock and punched him.

“No,” he recovered. “She is mine!” Sherlock returned the punch. “Aren’t you?” He asked you as he looked at you with a grin on his face.

“Oh God. I think I’m going to bed,” you said as you walked towards Sherlock’s bedroom and locked the door.

Once inside of it, you could hear your two friends yelling at each other. They both seemed to have fallen in love with you.

“She’s mine, John!”

“You’re a machine! You’re repeating the same sentence everytime I punch you!”

You lied down on the matress and fell asleep, though they were still fighting.

“Did she fall asleep?” John inquired.

“Who cares? She’s mine!” He cried as he took his harpoon and aimed with it at John. “I won!” He said with a satifying smile.

“Ok. I think we had enough,” John stated as he took a deep breath. “I need a pill for the headache.”

“You’re too weak, John Watson!” He 'threatened’ him. Then Sherlock dropped his harpoon and headed to the kitchen. “I need one too.”

“Tomorrow we’ll resume this?”

“Oh, you have no idea, John,” he said as he took the pill and headed to his room. He noticed that you locked it and then he returned to the living room. John laughed at him. “Oh, shut up. At least I share breakfast with her.”




When the deerstalker made his first appearance in ASIB I just thought of it as a reminiscence to canon Sherlock Holmes. After all, this hat has become the most famous trademark for the great detective worldwide for more than hundred years. Somehow the deerstalker and Holmes are almost inseperable. Therefore it’s no great surprise that this hat shows up in Sherlock BBC as well. What I wonder now - after having written about the Deer and the Skull - is this:  Could the deerstalker be of more importance for the story than just a reference to victorian Holmes? Because:

‘The deerstalker is traditionally a rural outdoorsman’s cap. It is not an appropriate headgear for the properly dressed urban Gentleman. The fashion-conscious Holmes would be loath to commit such a sartorial faux pas.'  (X)

That’s about canon Sherlock Holmes. Nowadays - in the 21st century - wearing a deerstalker in London would look even more strange I assume. And I’m not talking here about fans who wear it in honor of Sherlock. That’s something quite different. No, I mean wearing it as a hat … just a hat.

The more I think about that 'silly hat’ the more it appears to be a massive anomaly in this modern Sherlock Holmes adaptation.

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Used to be
We’d consult the Farmer’s Almanac
Before a big day
It might still rain
But we’d get married anyways
There’s no shortage
Of people to sue
Weathermen getting death threats
And smears of “f- you”
Heaven forbid
The power goes out
While the cake’s inside
Return of down payment
Not enough for a bride
Why are bakers still baking
In a goddamn hurricane?
Heaven forbid
The seamstress didn’t count
On a dress with a bun inside
Can’t let out fabric if
It’s not there in the first place
Nothing’s idyllic
Like we were promised
When we lied to ourselves
About what to expect
When we’re expecting
Instead of living
And dying

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

Imagine going to Baskerville to solve the ‘H.O.U.N.D.’ case but you and John don’t take it seriously as Sherlock does.

“John,” Sherlock called.

“Yes. What?”

“Footprints, the monster must be hiding behind those buildings,” he said as he walked away with a lantern in his hands.

You both exhange gazes and burst out laughing. Sherlock was far away but he could hear someone giggling. He was not stupid.

“What the heck is going on?” He walked towards you two.

“Nothing, Sherlock. We were about to start following you. Go on, we’ll catch you later,” you said.

“Ok. But you should better hurry up,” he said as sighed and walked away, again.

“Do yo believe in this 'hound’?” You sarcastically asked John.

“No,” he chuckled. “But it seems that Sherlock is willing to do anything to find Big Foot,” he giggled.

“Bit Foot? Seriously?” you laughed.


“Ok, let’s go. I bet he found its refuge,” he said and you both chuckled.

Josephine Baker wed fourth (and final) husband, orchestra leader Jo Bouillon in 1947. They were together until their divorce in 1961. It was during this time Ms. Baker adopted her twelve children of different ethnicities and religions which she called her “Rainbow Tribe.” It was her desire to show the world that children from different backgrounds could live together as brothers.