sherlock is walking home from bart’s after solving a ridiculously, almost frustratingly simple kidnapping case and his eye catches on a shoebox that looks to have been tossed on the edge of the sidewalk. the box moves a bit. sherlock tilts his head to one side and stops, crouches down, and lifts the lid to peer inside the box and see a tiny, skinny puppy with eyes that could hardly open yet and short fur that should be white but almost looks a sort of tan color now from dirtiness. sherlock inhales sharply then promptly takes off his scarf, wraps up the puppy, and texts john “Buy dog food” before standing up and walking the rest of the way home to baker street with the puppy held closely against his chest



It hadn’t even been worth the trip to Bart’s, really. If Lestrade had actually been paying attention when they took the father’s statement he would have realized the girl was with her uncle. Trace wool fibers found at the scene had just confirmed that she was on a sheep farm with dense, loamy soil. The local force should find her within about half an hour, rather confused but quite safe, and there would be sure to be a tearful reunion with her mother.

Dull, and a complete waste of a day. He could have been working on the radio interchangeability experiment. That would have been mildly interesting, at least. He was just about to call for a cab when he noticed a battered old shoebox on the side of the road. He really should leave it – John was always complaining that he didn’t take enough precautions when opening up strange packages. But it had been a boring day and he needed a bit of excitement and besides, what were the chances that someone had left some nefarious package here on the off-chance he would open it?

The box shuddered a little just as Sherlock lifted the lid and he almost cried out in surprise at the contents.

A little puppy. Tiny, really. The eyes were barely open and it mewled pathetically at him, blinking in the sudden light. Sherlock knelt down and took off his gloves to examine it. The fur was brown, but he seriously suspected that was just dirt; he rubbed a bit at the thing’s ears and sure enough, there was white poking through underneath the layer of grime and a few fleas. He noticed that the puppy was cold, as well, and he didn’t even take a second thought before he was plucking it out of its sad little box and wrapping it up in his scarf. Would that be warm enough for it? The weather was a bit chilly and damp, after all. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he opened up his coat and let it absorb some of his own body heat. One hand cradling the puppy, he tugged his mobile out of his pocket. John should be home from work by now.

We need milk.        SH

He wanted to get back to Baker Street as soon as possible, but he was also well aware that most cab drivers weren’t keen on the idea of animals in their taxis. He’d have to walk – it would take John a bit to pick up the milk, anyways.

Get your own damn milk, Sherlock

Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance at the response. Now was not the time to be squabbling over whose turn it was to go to the shops. Besides, it was John’s turn anyways.

No, John, this is important. We need milk.      SH

Please.      SH

Fine. I’ll go to the Tesco on the corner. Anything else you need while I’m pretending to be your errand boy?

Sherlock glanced down at the tiny little bundle in his arms. What exactly did puppies need? Redbeard had been older by the time he’d joined the family – not an adult dog by any means but certainly self-sufficient. This puppy was anything but. He would need to replicate the perfect environment if he expected it to survive.

I need some hot water bottles ready.      SH

What the hell have you done?

John. Milk. Hot water bottles. Some old blankets in a box – use my duvet if you can’t find any.     SH

He looked down again, noticing with a bit of distaste the mud now on his suit jacket.

And some baby shampoo.       SH

It was a lengthy list, he was aware, but luckily Mrs. Hudson was in, and between the two of them everything was ready by the time Sherlock stepped into the flat. Sherlock took the stairs as quickly as he could without jostling the puppy, elbowing past John to get to the kitchen sink. First things first: wash off the grime and make sure there aren’t any injuries.

“Sherlock, are you going to exp- oh. Oh, God.”

“Certainly can’t be the first time you’ve seen a dog,” Sherlock muttered, filling up the basin with warm water.

“No, but – you have a puppy.”

“Yes, quite aware, thank you. I found it outside Bart’s and I, well, it’s small, I just, couldn’t leave it there.” Sherlock was expecting John to jump into a tirade about how he was always bringing things into the flat and maybe they should have discussed it before Sherlock brought a dog home, but it never came.

“Are you going to name it?” John glanced down at the creature in the sink, now whimpering fretfully as Sherlock tried to clean up the dirt without getting soap in its eyes or mouth. “Her,” John amended.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” John only nodded in response.

“There’s a towel there to dry her off,” he said, putting some milk onto the stove. “What were you going to use for a bottle?”

“There are some eyedroppers with my chemistry equipment.”

“No,” John cut him off. “I’m not trusting anything from your stuff, it probably hasn’t seen any cleaning agents for the past seven months. I think I’ve got some stuff in my kit.” By the time John returned, the milk was pleasantly warm and the puppy was considerably cleaner. Now that the fur was visible she was clearly some kind of spaniel breed, almost completely white bar the beginnings of a few light brown splotches. John filled up the clean eyedropper and handed it to Sherlock, who proceeded to simply sit down right there in the kitchen with the tiny dog in his arms and feed her, ever so slowly and carefully. After several minutes of just watching, John grabbed his laptop from the sitting room and joined Sherlock on the floor – it seemed like he needed to do some research.

“This site says we should feed her every few hours. We can take turns if you want?”

“I was planning to be working on the radio experiment tonight, anyways,” Sherlock replied. “I can certainly take care of her, as well.”

“You mean the experiment where you bought 14 different radios from a bunch of secondhand stores, dismantled them, and then tried to put them all back together with the wrong parts? That radio experiment?”

“Yes,” Sherlock sniffed. “Clearly you did not understand the aim of testing how interchangeable the parts were.”

“Sherlock, are you…intending for her to be around for awhile?”


“What?” John asked.

“Her name is Curie. After Marie Curie, of course. It was the best I could come up with on such a short notice.”

“Right,” John chuckled. “Well, if you’re intending to make Curie a permanent addition to the flat, you do realise you can’t leave radio bits all over the sitting room floor anymore, yeah?”

“She’s my dog, John. Please don’t insult her intelligence.”

When she finally seemed to have her fill of the milk, Sherlock set about reheating the water bottles and placing her tenderly into the little box John had put together, tucking the hot water bottles carefully underneath the old towels Mrs. Hudson had donated for the occasion. He then set his phone alarm to remind him hourly to check on her. John thought he would hardly need the assistance – it didn’t look as if he’d leave her side for the next week or so.

The night went on fairly normally, all things considered. John ordered Chinese, convinced Sherlock to eat some of it, and then watched the latest “Doctor Who” episode while researching further puppy care. They should probably get Curie into a vet soon: John highly doubted she was up-to-date on her shots. Through it all, Sherlock continually hovered over the dog, giving her another two feedings before John finally went to bed around one in the morning. Sherlock barely seemed to notice his departure, too busy staring intently into Curie’s little den.

The sight that greeted John when he shuffled downstairs in the morning for some tea was, in all honesty, completely adorable. Sherlock, asleep on the sofa, the little eyedropper in his hand. Curie, asleep on Sherlock’s chest and under several of their softest blankets, looking quite content. The TV on, muted, playing some sort of nature documentary. John had to admit, he hadn’t been exactly pleased when Sherlock showed up in their flat the day before with a tiny helpless puppy, but seeing him like this – tender, utterly devoted and besotted with the thing – was worth all the headaches that were sure to come in the future.

Alright, I understand that bees are incredibly important for the environment and food and our continued existence and all that.

But I just got chased down the sidewalk by a bee; I am not a flower so bees please stay the fuck away from me thank you.

posted 1 day ago

Tomorrow I am leading a discussion on Western opera and Conchita Wurst. At the same time.

Admit it, you’re jealous.

Hang on to your hats friends, music meta is coming.

Thoughts about school environments and mental health and things under the cut.

Read More

posted 2 weeks ago

Finally have my PhD school list narrowed down to a reasonable number! Six schools, three top-tier programs and three mid-level programs. Now I just need to actually do the application process. Hooray for advisers that actually spend time advising their students!

The Music of Sherlock Holmes Throughout the Years



An episode of “The Score”: One Hour of Instrumental Scores of Movie and Television Adaptations of “Sherlock Holmes” Over the Last Century

The episode presents pieces from a wide variety of Sherlock Holmes adaptations, from the Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett versions, to “The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes,” the Robert Downey Jr. films, and even “The Great Mouse Detective.”

The last fifteen minutes (starting at 46:12) are dedicated to BBC Sherlock and include a small interview with one of the show’s composers, Michael Price.

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND taking an hour out your day to sit down and listen to the musical brilliance that has accompanied the character of Sherlock Holmes over the years. It’s wonderful!

OMGOMG postcardsfromtheoryland have you seen this? Thanks soooo much cuoreridente! You’re a peach!

OOoooooooooooooooooooooohhh. Guess what I’m listening to this weekend….

The process of picking which PhD programs to apply to shouldn’t be more difficult than the actual application process :(

And now, nearly five months after I defended my first thesis, I’m finally writing the prospectus.

In my defense, my adviser informed me I didn’t need a proposal. I assumed since she was the head of the department that she was correct. New adviser who actually advises has informed me of the error of my ways.

This is even less fun than the actual thesis was to write.

Safe journey! There’s going to be a street festival at TIFF this year; no idea how good it will be, but it may be worth checking out. I’ll be going to one film tomorrow and that’s it. Not enough stamina to wait for rush tickets to The Imitation Game

Thanks! :) I’ve got tickets for a show on Saturday and one on Sunday morning, and I’m going to spend some time at the Toronto Library’s Conan Doyle collection on Monday, as well. I really wanted to see Imitation Game but they put it on the ONE day I couldn’t get out of class. Alas.

Well, I managed to finish my writing sample this morning, but in the process I accidentally slept through my class. Which is awkward because I wanted to ask said professor to write me a letter of rec for phd apps.

Alas. Hopefully next week will be better. In the meantime, getting ready to go to TIFF for the first time and spending the weekend with thatlowvice!

apinae-admin replied to your post: profriversongarchaeologist said:2…

I didn’t know you wrote fics?!! This is wonderful!!!

I do indeed! There’s a link to my ao3 hidden on my sidebar, but otherwise you could just do a search - I use the same name there. And thanks :D

posted 4 weeks ago

galtori replied to your post: Whoa Suddenly I’m Being Tagged in Things

AHAHAHAHAHA! I ALREADY DID IT!!!! *victory dance*

Curses! Foiled again!

posted 4 weeks ago

2 options for fic prompt: 1) John was supposed to speak at Hamish's school but he can't so Sherlock must do it instead, against John's better judgement OR 2) Lestrade was supposed to speak at a school and had something come up and since Sherlock owed him for something he regretfully agrees. Both: mayhem ensues

I didn’t forget about these, either. What I did forget is that I was going to be out of town/driving for the entire weekend right after I asked for ficlet prompts. So, they’re coming slowly while I procrastinate on my writing sample. Ficlet prompts ARE still being accepted because why not.


In retrospect, it really shouldn’t have surprised him to come home and find Sherlock on the sofa with three different ice packs on his face. At least Hamish seemed fine, idly doing his maths homework at the cluttered kitchen table and fighting back laughter at John’s expression.

"Do I even want to know? It was career day, Sherlock, how did you mess up career day this badly?”

"I couldn’t help it, John. I can’t just turn it off like a faucet."

"No, when Hamish asked you to come because he thought ‘consulting detective’ was cooler than ‘blogger’" (John ignored the affirmative-sounding mumble from the couch) "you promised you would behave."

"I believe the phrase I used was ‘I won’t deduce any of the other parents or children without due cause.’ I had due cause."

"That’s…Sherlock, how did….no. Hamish, what happened?" The boy looked up from his multiplication tables with a very Sherlockian smirk.

"He told the whole class that Mrs. Peterwood was having an affair with Mr. Summers AND Mrs. Ames."

"For God’s sake, Sherlock."

"And then," Hamish continued, barely suppressing his obvious glee, "he informed everyone that Mr. Trevor wasn’t actually an Air Force fighter pilot, he’s just a janitor."

And John should have given Sherlock such a reaming out. He should have informed the idiot that deducing their son’s classmates’ parents was not on in any circumstances. He should have told Sherlock he bloody deserved what looked like two black eyes and a potentially broken nose.

But in the end, he just couldn’t do it.

"I can’t help noticing that these parents happened to share last names with the group of children that have been making fun of Hamish on the playground for the past few weeks."

"Utterly coincidental, I assure you," Sherlock informed him with a smug, almost predatory grin.

"Was all of it true, at least?"

"Of course. I wouldn’t cause our son’s tormentors lasting embarrassment with lies. Takes the fun out of it."

"Right then. Angelo’s?"


Whoa Suddenly I’m Being Tagged in Things

I’m going to spread them out a bit so you don’t just get a deluge of info about me, yeah?

Alright, first one -

I was tagged by the wonderful fffinnagain, so you’re going to learn things about me! Wooooo!.

Rules: Just insert your answers to the questions below & tag at least 10 followers

  • Name: Emily. I don’t really like it all that much but eh.
  • Nickname: Oh goodness. I mean, the normal one is Em, and I will punch anyone that calls me Emmy. Other favorites include Emmeranian, Emmerdoodles, and Embem.
  • Birthday: 10th of October
  • Gender: Cisgender female.
  • Sexuality: Very sex-repulsed asexual. Romantic orientation seems to change on an hourly basis but the closest I’ve gotten to describing it is slightly gray-romantic.
  • Height: 5’5”, though it changes every time I go to the doctor’s office. Once I was 5’7” and very confused about life.
  • Time zone: EST for the moment. I’ll be moving next summer to a phd program yet unknown so presumably that will change.
  • What time and date is it there: 16:40, 1 September.
  • Average hours of sleep I get each night: That depends entirely upon whether I need to get up in the morning. Left alone, I’ll sleep about 9 hours but most of it will be in the late morning/early afternoon. If I have to get up in the morning, it’s generally about three hours a night. The joys of Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome….
  • OTPs: Hmm. To be honest, I’m not much of a shippy person. I usually deflect and say Sherlock/The Work, but, when pressed, I’m mildly entertained by Johnlock, Sherstrade, and Lestrolly. Outside of Sherlock I get much shippier, and the top two are probably Sakura/Syaoran and Toya/Yukito from Cardcaptor Sakura.
  • The last thing I Googled was: Trying to find a quote that I remember from Moffat about how each new Holmes adaptation tries to bring something different to the table. I couldn’t find it. If it sounds familiar to anyone, hit me up and tell me.
  • First word that comes to mind: Peanuts.
  • What I last said to a family member: I said goodbye and I love you to my sister when I dropped her off at the airport yesterday (she came to visit because I’ve been lonely as hell at school and we met up at COSI and went to the Sherlock Holmes exhibit and it was lovely).
  • One place that makes me happy and why: Only one? Hmmmm. Alright, the coffeeshop in the town I did my undergrad degree in. It was a TINY little farming town, and I think the college made up over half the population, but there was this really great coffeeshop that I’ve never been able to find a replacement for. Super good food, basically any drink you could want, friendly baristas who would slip free cookies into my to-go box when it was obvious I was having a bad day. It was just really my go-to place during those years regardless of whether I wanted to sit in the quiet back room and study or if I wanted to eat at the counter and chat, and I had many good and memorable conversations with friends there.
  • How many blankets I sleep under: Just one sheet. I only use the blanket it if’s ridiculously cold, and then it normally gets bunched up by my feet.
  • Favourite beverage: Harvey Wallbanger. I’m not kidding.
  • The last movie I watched in the cinema was: I think it was Fifth Estate, actually. I don’t see movies in the theatre all that often.
  • Three things I can’t live without: a good research library, puppies, and caffeine.
  • Something I plan on learning: Well, at the moment I’m learning all about adaptation studies for my current thesis, which is fun, but at some point I’d like to learn (and will need to during my PhD) a third language. I’m looking at Russian, currently.
  • A piece of advice for all my followers: Your mental health is more important than whatever strenuous thing you might be doing right now. If you need to take a break just fucking do it.
  • You have to listen to this song: It’s not, strictly speaking, a song, but this is a piano piece I have spent most of my life in love with, and is the last thing I played in recital back when I was a performing pianist. This recording is a bit old and you can tell, but it’s by far my favorite for the emotional qualities Richter draws out of it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KStjdclOpzI 
  • My blog(s): Well, there’s this one, obviously. I also share a Sherlock blog with my beta but I don’t think either of us has posted over there in several months. And I have an abandoned blogspot (I think it’s linked on my sidebar) where I make fun of opera.

And now: rockonmyfriends, silver-boots, thevanishingtwin, coolerontheinside, nerdyholler, jocelee, profriversongarchaeologist, fleurdelivres, galtori, watcherinthewater

posted 4 weeks ago