anons and answers makes everything much more painful than i want them to be
Anonymous asked: Is it possible that this guy just isn't the one for you? I mean, you've waited and done your best, and it certainly isn't your fault that he's not returning whatever you're putting out. Maybe it's time to move on. There are plenty of fish in the sea who will appreciate you more than he seems to be. Best of luck, bro.
That makes me sound like I’m some sort of Nice Guy who doesn’t understand basic social cues. I am hideous. I am unfit for human interaction.
Just sent a pretty mean anon to texts… urgh feel so baaad but you know… i think he needs it… just… ummm it’s the only way to get a reaction from him… i think kdskjsdkds
the best part about this is waiting for texts update
We may be starting after The Empty Hearse, but we will be revisiting that episode via flashbacks and so on. Plus other things in the past…
The FAQ has also been updated and pruned for the sake of relevance. These two new additions are worth repeating here:
- Some of the plots you wrote about before Reichenbach don’t make sense now that series 3 has aired. How will you deal with those?
Mostly by never mentioning them again. We’ll continue to refer to what still makes sense (Victor Trevor, for example) while disregarding what doesn’t (Mary Morstan as Victor Trevor’s widow), but we told a story we wanted to tell during Texts 1.0 and don’t want to revise it to suit current facts.
- What’s up with The Sigerson Letters/The Duplicitous Detective? They’re somehow related to this blog, right?
The Sigerson Letters and The Duplicitous Detective are sequel stories to Texts which pick up post-Reichenbach. They take place in an alternate universe where Sherlock adopted a persona—Jeremy Sigerson—to keep in touch with John after his death. These stories will continue to update even though they are now AU.
A mysterious post on one of the sleuth’s blogs has fans scrambling for answers
Yesterday evening, without warning, the blog Text Messages from Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson updated for the first time in over a year. This would be unremarkable—after all, there are many Sherlock Holmes fan blogs on the web, and more than a handful purport to be written by the man himself—except “Texts” was established by the deceased detective and his flatmate, John Watson, as an informal way to communicate with fans. In other words, it’s an official channel.
The posted message, in response to a fan-posed question about where the two men would settle if they had to leave London, read, “I could never stay away permanently,” and was followed by Sherlock Holmes’s unique signature, “SH.”
So, is it official? Has Sherlock Holmes risen from the grave?
“It’s rubbish,” said John Watson when interviewed this morning. “It’s someone playing a prank. Don’t encourage them.”
But fans aren’t so certain. “He’s the cleverest man in the world,” posted one fan on Tumblr, shortly after the message’s appearance. “Who says he hasn’t found some way to come back?”
There has long been speculation that Sherlock Holmes was wrongly accused of staging the cases he solved, even that he faked his own suicide. Some enthusiasts believe that the sleuth assumed the identity of Jeremy Sigerson, a fan who posted on his blog that he would find a way to clear Holmes’ name, then disappeared. Others excitedly share “Sherlock sightings” around the globe. “#BelieveInSherlock” and “#SherlockLives” have both trended on Twitter.
Cleverness is one thing—Holmes would undeniably still had to have been clever to fake his cases—but surely cheating death falls into a different category?
“He is a different category,” exclaimed another young, deerstalker-wearing fan outside Barts this morning. And, echoing the sentiments of many hopefuls awaiting the sleuth’s return, she added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just too smart to stay dead, you know. And he’ll be back for sure. London is his home.”
Texts started and ended their fanart features with my stupid works. I feel like I’ve finally achieved my goal. This is my legacy.
Thank you—all 7,000+ of you—so, so much for all of your support of and dedication to this project. We’ve had a blast writing it and are incredibly grateful that you stuck around for the ride.
Check back tomorrow for information about what’s going to happen regarding the continuation of this blog and sequels!
(Those of you who follow FYSS might also want to check in on him soon as well.)
thank you seth and chelsea for everything that you do and have done and will do, you are both spectacular and just… thank you for bringing us together and breaking our hearts and taking us on this amazing ride and ahhhhhhhhh
Notes: Warnings for alcohol consumption, drug abuse, explicit sexual content, prostitution, and suicidal ideation. Also on LJ for ease of reading. Please read John’s and Mycroft’s flashbacks for full understanding.
The army doctor known as John has him pinned against the door as soon as it closes. “Where’d you learn to do that?” John asks in between fervent, reverent kisses. (The best kind.) “Basil—oh, Christ—” John’s breath reeks of alcohol. It’s nearly preferable to the underlying mustiness of their chosen motel room. “That thing with your—you know—”
“My tongue,” supplies Sherlock, squirming, amused. The drunk ones tend to be the more garrulous of his marks. “That’s the word you’re searching for.”
“Tongue, yeah. That’s it. Tongue.” John curls his own momentarily. Its flavor is less than appetizing—cheap beer, stale crisps—but Sherlock has tasted far worse on far more unpleasant people. Either way, Sherlock is of the opinion that too much importance is given to mingling tongues.
At least John seems to be having fun with it. Aspiring alcoholics are so easy to please. (And much more willing to part with their money. Sherlock has a whole family of addictions to feed.)
They’re kissing again. It’s nice to explore and discover that John routinely brushes his teeth. That makes sense: John is a trained medical doctor, of his own admission, corroborated by his details. Personality traits like cleanliness and fastidiousness tend to be obvious at first glance. Endearing traits to be sure. A welcome change of pace.
When Sherlock is tripping on this much ecstasy (among other things), he’ll accept flaws like poor hygiene if it means a more passionate partner. He’s craving only the heat, the friction, the adrenalized dissociation—the carnal rhythm that’s older than anyone knows. It will stop him from thinking like a precise blow to the head. John is tonight’s hammer, and a lucky find altogether.
“If you want to know more about me,” Sherlock murmurs in and out of the kiss, “then stay with me for a while. Maybe I’ll deign to tell you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Basil.”