January 13th, 2014


(no subject)

Right. So, "His Last Vow."

Just... right.

I'd threaten spoilers, but I'm not entirely sure I'm capable.

Not what was I was expecting. Not what I was hoping for. But damn, what a sweet spot.

Much was redeemed. Not nearly enough. But it's half old-school Sherlock, half James Bond, and 100% Moffat gold.

I suppose I should have a proper response of sorts, but rally I just feel too dazed. Best to sleep on it, I think.

(no subject)

Apparently, today will be a day of random Sherlock thoughts strolling through my bread and my saying out loud: "Because, just... damn." This has happened three times today already in front of three different people.

I really should be more critical, because there was quite a lot not to like and I'm not blind to it, and I'm also still not sure it made up for the first two episodes. My guess, though, is there will be time for the more critical work later. Today I am not angsting. I do not need a shock blanket. I feel like dancing, or deducing, or something. Probably both.

Because, just... damn.

happy bday to Altariel, + fannish share of the day: Sherlock deductions

First things first. Today is the anniversary of altariel's entry into this mortal sphere - her birthday, if you must. I'm a bit sleep-deprived after certain consulting detectives wouldn't let me fall asleep last night, and that means the adjectives come a bit freer than they normally would. So it feels like I could wax poetic about Altariel and end up undercutting how important she is to the Tolkien fandom, and what a nice friend she's been to me. She was the den-mother of the Henneth_Annun listserv, for one thing, and that was my first real home in the Tolkien fandom. But she's also a talented author and just a very warm person apart from that. Do check out her fic and leave her a review if any catch your interest.

I think the best way I can think to honor her, though, is to quote a bit of T.S. Eliot. It's such a little thing, the way she brought this particular author to my attention through her fanfic, but his poetry is some of the most profound I've ever read, and I love meditating on a few lines now and then, both because it's T.S. Eliot but also because of the personal connection. I reread "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock not too long ago, so that's fresh on my mind, particularly this passage that featured in one of my own stories:

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?


This wonder showed up on my Pinterest page by the time I watched "His Last Vow" and pulled myself together enough to get past the semi-coherent jaw-dropping stage. Put behind a cut for spoilers, although I personally think people who haven't seen HLV will be more confused than spoiled.

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That's right, within six hours of the episode's release, Sherlock fandom members were not only busy deducing, they were reaching back to series two. Shine on, you crazy, crazy fools. And bring on the fanfic and all the rest of the insanity. I love it all and want it all now. Right after I rewatch the series in tandem with my law-abiding North American compatriots. And cry a bit more.

Really, love or hate series three, I think the vast majority of Sherlockians are already sharing this attitude. No spoilers whatsoever.

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