Perditorian - The Perditorian

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Note this was from a YEAR ago.

There are lots of things that occur to me far later than they should. The thing about Mrs Hudson that I should have noticed but didn’t was the first one: I’m sure there will be a million more, because I am not particularly detail-oriented, to be honest. This is the second thing I just realized: Sherlock didn’t originally want John to be his assistant. He wanted Anderson to play that role.

Sherlock: Who’s on forensics? Lestrade: Anderson. Sherlock: Anderson won’t work with me.

Not Anderson is an idiot, but Anderson won’t work with me. Sherlock then proceeds to take John along with him to a crime scene, and is remarkably patient and accommodating with him. Why does he do that? Sherlock is neither patient nor accommodating as a general rule. When John deduces only the most obvious and basic details about Jennifer Wilson’s death, Sherlock isn’t scornful at all. Why does he behave this way?

Lestrade: He’s not your assistant. Sherlock: I need an assistant!

We know he doesn’t bring John along for his own innate skills, because when John asks why he’s there, as they’re standing over Jennifer Wilson’s body, Sherlock says, “Proving a point.” He doesn’t really care what John has to offer to the investigation of the crime scene, that’s why he’s not bothered by John’s simple description of the cause of death. That wasn’t the point.

He’s trying to make Anderson jealous.

These two appear to have a tumultuous relationship; they must have argued over bodies before. Sherlock must respect Anderson’s abilities; why else would he want him as an assistant? So Sherlock wants to demonstrate, in the most childish way possible, that if Anderson won’t play ball, he will lock him out altogether. That’s the worst thing Sherlock can imagine: being tantalizingly close to the crime scene and his own dazzling deductions, but not be able to hear them or participate.

So Sherlock slams the door in Anderson’s face. It’s not because noting that Rache is a German word is dumb (It was something that passed through Sherlock’s mind as well, as we know); it’s becauseSherlock is proving his point.

 I don’t need you. See? See me not needing you? How do you like that, Anderson? HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? I can deduce the fact that you’re cheating on your wife with Sally, I know what you were doing last night. See? Aren’t I good? That’s how good I am. You want to be my assistant, Anderson, don’t you. You need to, because I’m dazzling and you need to watch me. If you ask really nicely I might let you act as my assistant next time. I just might. 

Sherlock doesn’t realize at that point that the perfect assistant for him is John. Anderson won’t fire a bullet with the steadiest of hands through a window for him. Anderson won’t help him behave appropriately in social situations and smooth out the rough edges of his interactions. Anderson may admire Sherlock’s abilities, but he’d never say so out loud. Anderson will never love him. John’s arrival utterly alters the job description of “assistant” for Sherlock. We never hear the word “assistant” again, in fact (to my knowledge).

Sherlock’s reactions toward Anderson, and all the negative things he has to say about him thereafter, appear, in this light, to be more a reaction to Anderson’s rejection of Sherlock than any scornfulness about his abilities. 

Sherlock has the emotional life of a nine year old.

When he was little he wanted to be a pirate

Now he's just fucking with us. 

That part is a myth. However, there have been studies that show that the longer the ring finger is than the index finger, the better. 

On that note...

OMG. This would have made those days SO MUCH BETTER!

save for yourself and for future generations

SITTY THING is the best two words to ever have been televised. 

this is the literal best thing to happen to me

cumbertrekkie:

the wonderful women of Sherlock

The fact that this made me laugh out loud has me rethinking my life choices.

But only a little bit.

1. Don’t think that being published will make you happy. It will for four weeks, if you are lucky. Then it’s the same old fucking shit. 2. Hemingway was fucking wrong. You shouldn’t write drunk. (See my third novel for details.) 3. Hemingway was also right. ‘The first draft of everything is shit.’ 4. Never ask a publisher or agent what they are looking for. The best ones, if they are honest, don’t have a fucking clue, because the best books are the ones that seemingly come from nowhere. 5. In five years time the semi-colon is going to be nothing more than a fucking wink. 6. In five years time every fucking person on Twitter will be a writer. 7. Ignore the fucking snobs. Write that space zombie sex opera. Just give it some fucking soul. 8. If it’s not worth fucking reading, it’s not worth fucking writing. If it doesn’t make people laugh or cry or blow their fucking minds then why bother? 9. Don’t be the next Stephen King or the next Zadie Smith or the next Neil Gaiman or the next Jonathan Safran fucking Foer. Be the next fucking you. 10. Stories are fucking easy. PLOT OF EVERY BOOK EVER: Someone is looking for something. COMMERCIAL VERSION: They find it. LITERARY VERSION: They don’t find it. (That’s fucking it.) 11. No-one knows anything. Especially fucking me. Except: 12. Don’t kill off the fucking dog. 13. Oh, yeah, and lastly: write whatever you fucking want.

Matt Haig, “Some Fucking Writing Tips” (via framesjanco)

7. Ignore the fucking snobs. Write that space zombie sex opera. Just give it some fucking soul.

(via ajournalofimpossiblethings)