I Was Worried That The Retired Colourman Case Won’t Be As Compelling As The Others - Reduced Just To

I just can’t stop wondering how much we don’t know because we can’t hear it - because of sherlock & co being recorded.

how many times had john rolled his eyes at sherlock when he was being ridiculous, but smiled to himself the moment he turned around? how many times had mariana leaned in the doorway to 221b baker street and silently but fondly watched john and sherlock bickering? how many times sherlock just didn’t say anything when archie climbed on his lap and instead started to scratch behind the dog’s ears?

how many gentle smiles, cheeky grins and warm gazes with sparkling eyes? fingers touching one’s arm, hands on the shoulder or tight hugs? how much affection spread without words?

how much is being not said, left to imagination?

do you think corvus has ever helped ezran to brush his hair, because when the boy was little he didn’t like them tamed in any way and now that he changed his mind with age there is no father to teach him how to do this, even though it was him that passed on the unruly curls onto the kid?

do you think soren has ever helped ezran to put his ceremonial armor on, because there are harrow’s old ones stored in the castle that now the boy is slowly growing into, but there are so many parts and straps and layers and poor kid has no idea what to do with all of them?

do you think corvus and soren have ever whispered in some secluded place about it, because this is their king they’re talking about - and it feels so improper to discuss him having problems and insecurities, but at the same time he is a child and he should be allowed to behave like one and learn things - and also because they love the kid so much but neither of them is allowed to say it out loud?

John Hamish Watson at any given moment:

How to spot signs and symptoms of Breast Cancer 

The neurodivergent urge to do this

oh so first burying oneself under the other’s covers only to emerge asking about shoelaces, then watching the other in their sleep and later flopping on the other’s matress cursing in frustration of unsolved case, but asking deep personal questions about the other’s past and laughing together a while after?

and now waking the other up in the morning with a cup of tea? oh okay sure

what, maybe you’ve even sat on the edge of sherlock’s bed with that tea, john, and looked at him light-heartedly as he was pretending to sleep despite your talking, early sunlight probably splayed on his face and shining warmly on his disheveled hair or whatever? yeah of course why wouldn’t you perform this perfectly platonic activity, just warn me when I should give you both some privacy so that you can present him with a morning kiss alright

okay okay wait a second

victor trevor interrupting stranger’s conversation just because he heard the name sherlock holmes in it? asking if he has been mentioning him? being the only friend sherlock had in college? remembering that the one kind of pasta he eats is penne and having his own predictions about who sherlock’d be in the future? asking right away if he’d been right? thinking that sherlock of all people was a great laugh? and have I heard being in between boyfriends???

finally, speaking about sherlock with this warm nostalgic tone and always with a bashful laugh hidden behind it? oh my, mister victor trevor, you were in love!

and don’t mind me at all, but I’m having a certain vision - of sherlock and victor in college, victor coming late to their dorm after long evening studying in the library or a night out with friends in a pub, and finding sherlock transfixed on some experiment, of course having gone a whole day without a proper meal. victor complaining loudly about you and your fucked up diet, honestly, sherlock, but at the same time getting ready to go make sherlock some pasta for a late night diner. because did you know this penne with mascarpone and tomato sauce that is the only pasta sherlock eats, is originally a victor’s recipe? and after it’s done, them both sitting on a couch, sherlock eating from a pot - they’re students after all, the dishes are in a big dirty pile in the sink - while victor watches him out of the corner of his eye. then the rest of the evening spend on Sherlock talking about his experiment, some interesting plant or a new deduction, while victor just listens to him with a dreamy expression on his face, because that’s what he has been waiting the whole day for.

and I won’t speculate whether sherlock was in love, too, because the man is a mystery to me, but I do imagine victor calling him after the events of gloria scott, asking if he can come by to baker street to thank properly for solving the case. after sherlock agrees - but invites him over when he knows nor john neither mariana would be home - victor arrives with a shoping bag in hand and, in spite of some attempts at protest close to it’s not necessary, he prepares the penne pasta for sherlock one last time. then all is done and there’s no excuse for him to stay longer, really, so he stands up to say goodbye. quick enough for sherlock to not be able to do anything about it, victor kisses him on the cheek. but he had been watching sherlock during the case and heard enough my dear watson to know that he has lost his chance. so he says simply good luck, sherlock and walks out of baker street.

john would come back to the flat few moments later to find sherlock standing in a doorway, hands holding his cheeks. sherlock being even weirder than usual, john would get worried and trying to pry any information from him, even checking his temperature by a quick touch to the forehead. but as sherlock doesn’t comply, in the end john would just shrug his shoulders and leave him alone, only to become perplexed seconds later, when he enters the kitchen.

because there are leftovers of penne with mascarpone and tomato sauce already on the countertop, while john himself was just about to cook them this same thing for dinner.

me, with english as not my primary language, trying to follow sherlock when he blurts out the whole sequence of deductions at the speed of light:

Three butch friends of mine finishing the basement of my first house around 1996.   They worked for beer, and not even anything fancy. 

I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT WE WERE ABOUT TO GET A SHERLOCK’S BIRTHDAY EPISODE. I’VE LITERALLY POSTED ABOUT IT YESTERDAY I’M A FUCKING GENIUS