#sherlock
Sherlock Holmes once said, “It is a capital mistake to theorize
before one has data.”
~~~~~~
guilty;
news headline, opinion formed,
apply labels as needed,
once seeded,
irretractable
so retractions ignored,
once formed - it’s permanence establishmentarian
first reading meh
second reading:mmm
third reading: this could be something,
fourth reading: whoa, wow!
guilty, guilty
X years of imprisonment
for bad judgement,
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 12:18 PM UTC
Yes, this may be the crime of the century,
the solution Watson is elementary.
He did it! You see that's not so very hard,
so be a dear chap and inform Scotland Yard.
I am bored with this detective endeavour,
I am tired of being so ****** clever.
Sod it! And eternal damnation to all
I'll just wait for the House of Usher to fall.
Why? You ask my reference to Mr Poe.
It's this apathy that is starting to grow.
I cannot be bothered with all this tripe,
so Watson please fetch my violin and pipe.
Nov 13, 2024
Nov 13, 2024 at 7:05 AM UTC
I am so nasty
people stand aghast
I am so bad
you feel a draft
on a summers day
murderous glances pave the way
I am sick, I am ill
babe with every hero it’s a battle of wills
I am so abrasive
I am like invasive surgery
I am so evil I burn bibles and call it purgatory
the devil herself could learn from me
I want pounds of flesh so burn with me
I am deathly shade
stalking the sun
I am the nightmare
in the night you run
I am evil
I told you to die
but chances are you’re petrified
I am so dishevelled
I make Darth Sidious look sprightly
Sith Lords can’t fight me
With just one flick of my fingers
death lingers
I am psychologically deranged
so psychopathically strange
you wondered if I was ever sane
I just got back from Frankenstein’s lab
I killed the hulk yes I am that strong and bad
I framed Sherlock Holmes
and made him into an ****** addict
cause all my plays our that strategic
I even cheat death
in fact I own Azrael’s blade
I am villain the one you crave.
Dec 20, 2022
Dec 20, 2022 at 5:59 AM UTC
By profession,
I am good at
waiting
I am used to
the cruelty
of human upon
human
wounds of wars
and words
delicate deceits that
brush lips with skin
and skin with finger -
prints
like him, I look at bodies
and see stories
I see bruises and scars
that conceal secrets
I can read crimes
as clearly as if
they were written
in blood across
the scene
this game should be
beneath us
he is cruel
and offers a
chance, smaller
than anything
I’ve seen on a
microscope slide
but still, breathing
existing, taunting
leaving me breathless
and broken
it squeezes my
heart as if the
blood inside is
a poison that
needs extracting
my once logical
mind quivers
under his kiss
and empties
he is the ****
that grows beneath a flower
until it is too wild
to ****
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
A hospital roof
top – the world swelling
like a broken limb
beneath him
breathing
the air tastes
of car fumes,
***** – people
with their feet
covered in
the dust of
life
for a moment
my heart imagines
he is going to
jump
jump
away from the plan
I trust myself
enough not to
trust him
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
a gun -
shot wound
to the heart
breathe - just
******* breathe
he won't lie
still, and the
red pool reaches
nearer
reaching like a
hand towards
me
at my feet
I stare at it
and remember
laughing
we didn't laugh often
I'm not like
that
but we would succumb
occasionally
I remember the feel
of his hair - the
way the roots
felt as I brushed
from them with
my fingers
my fingers remember
the touch of his
coat
the scratchy,
uncomfortable
fabric
why did he wear
the ******* thing?
the scarlet stain
has reached my toes
now
I fight the urge
to place my hand
in his
I need to focus
He needs to -
focus
please, just listen
to my voice
put your heartbeat
into it
into me
control
control
control
he is becoming
heart -
less
why has he
chosen me
to save him?
twice now
he says I matter
the most but it's
********
he doesn't want me
he wants my
skills
to find a body
and fake
it
to wait years
no - two years
in silence so heavy
I feel like my lungs
have collapsed
and now to pull him
through - back through
the cavity in his chest
to force the blood
back into his breaking
body
whilst my hands
shake with fear
night terrors
and the shape of
his face as I
drag him
(back to life)
by the roots of
his hair
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
I take tea in the afternoon
as I wait to hear his foot -
falls approaching
I am on
edge until they
kiss my ears in their
heavy booted sound
I add sugar cubes
distractedly, as my
mouth adjusts to
the taste of him
a heaviness on my
lips, upon my neck,
the scratch of a scarf
that looks softer
I imagine the scratch
of a vampire fang to be
worse, and breathe in and
out my prayers that at
least he is by my side
before nightfall
he is a thing of
paleness and impatience,
I am a woman who works
the dead into shapes
that speak
we both seek answers
but know they will not
be found in the arms of
each other
yet still,
our hearts beat
as one
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
Someday your pain
will be beneath you.
Someday you'll see
that all that crying
bloomed flowers
under your feet.
When the sun rises,
I'll see you across the room.
It's been years since I've disappeared
but I did it all to protect you.
Keep you safe from the dark
that follows you and
tries to hurt you.
I ran into the darkness for you,
this was my plan
and now I've returned from the black for anew,
and I owe you a thousand apologies
In the morning,
I'll approach you.
It's been three years.
The story has ended
and I have shed my own tears.
"Don't apologize to me."
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
You were once the greatest thing that ever happened to me
and now you are just thrown in the back of my mind.
Now you're just scattered memories.
I was always afraid of changing.
I was never made to do this because
my life revolved around you.
But life does keep going.
As you decide to jump off this runaway train,
leaving me in the dust left to rust.
Leaving these grounds to become a beautiful flaming light in the darkness.
Every night I would look into the sky and talk to you,
telling you that life does keep going on
but it's making me sick, love.
But in the morning I will awake and rise from the ground
not knowing how to walk properly again.
But I'll find enough strength to walk to your resting place
and find peace in it and slow down in this race.
But I gave you all I had
and now I have nothing left to hold
I took all my love and spread it across your wild footprints
and grave, like ashes, to let it sink down into you once again.
We all get older.
We all lose things.
Life doesn't stop
and I have never
felt more alone,
but time continues
and the days go on.
But not a day goes by that I forget you
because I never dreamed of meeting someone like you,
but now you're just a memory
in the back of my mind.
Oh, the tragedy I have seen,
leaving my eyes burnt out.
"Please don't be dead."
I repeat countless times to your stone,
to the sky, to the heavenly stars that shine so bright
leaving the darkness in the pity shadows.
"Do this for me please."
"Just one more miracle."
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Once I was a king loathed by my kingdom.
I was a machine built from the toughest iron nothing could break through.
I left my emotions to rust in the rain and murdered them in the cold night.
But I let my ego hold my strings and now I can't even treat a human right.
I meet a manic on the south side of town.
With a cane in hand and his mind locked in a birdcage since the war.
He was a maniac for trusting me and loving me and all my iron core.
I don't believe his tales for,
he is dead on the inside.
Departed from his heart,
He says he feels more alive this way.
With a cigarette in my hand, I hope for his life to never feel alone again.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
There was a head in the fridge and a mouse in the blender
If I had been John, I’d have put you six feet under
You played the game, you thought you were smart
I used to wish Moriarty would burn out your heart
But now that you’re gone, I want you back
Why’d you have to make the fall of Reichenbach?
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
Saying “Women of the Night”
Might be alright
As a description for some girls,
They stream eastward
Along the bank,
Checking for marauders and adjusting curls.
Yet courtesans are different;
They came as swiftly as they went,
Called on by important men.
From house and hotel they are borne,
In carriages, and in finery worn,
For those who have a yen.
Yet others still elude one name,
Of condemnation or fame.
They do not wander at men’s whims.
They deliver terms to him or him.
And live in dwellings finer still,
Until the payer has had his fill.
But with the latter does he ever
Tire of the source of pleasure?
For some the need outlasts his want,
And he becomes the supplicant!
Then woman’s wit becomes the master,
While her body wields a whip.
The sinner’s desire speeds still faster,
As she the body’s scale does tip.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Maintain a distance
Of at least three feet
Cuz a close encounter
Is more bitter than sweet
Just one step too close
And she's inside your head
Just one step too close
And soon you'll be dead
She'll make you believe
That she can help you
That whatever you want
Is what she wants too
But once she's inside
Her wicked voice rings
By then, you're enslaved
To do her bidding
Her thoughts are inhuman
She doesn't feel pain
She's clearly unmatched
When it comes to the brain
But please don't be tricked
By her dark mind games
What she's trying to do
Is drive you insane
Who is she, you ask?
She's the east wind that blows
Well haven't you guessed?
Her name is Eurus.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
To watch or not to watch.
That is the question;whether it is nobler in my mind to suffer the feels and emotions of addicting shows and yet be so in love with them.
To watch, to cry.
One more episode and only sleep will help me to end.
The heartache and the thousand cinematic shocks the writers are obsessed with.
‘tis a consuming world with everything I wish.
To watch, to cry. To cry-- perhaps too much. Ay, but it's worth it.
For, when watching these shows and knowing what feels may come, when we have shuffled off this depressing factor, we must not forget the humor that makes happiness last oh so long.
To watch characters travel the depths of space and time.
The detectives prove wrong the proud men and even the relationships and love ‘tween the main protagonists.
The insolence of the hiatus that even patient fangirls cannot take. When we go on great adventures with a hobbit and a ring. Who could bear the long wait? To punt a sweat is a weary life. To discover world's unknown from books or shows. We travellers never want to return.
Our fangirl hearts burn and even still
We would rather bear the tears we have Than live in a world where there are none. Thus Fangirls are not cowards, not at all
Thus we are heroes so very proud
So we proudly say take flight on the enterprise with Captain Jean Luc
We bare our lights sabers alight
And lose ourselves in the action
Go we now happy as could be-- off to fangirl forever
To be normal? Ha! Never.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
Remember the time,
When you stood right behind me,
Watching me enjoy the limelight.
The time when I acted stupid,
But you brought the right words to my sight.
The time when I refused to work,
But you kept pushing me to do so.
The time when I had given up on myself,
But with those harsh and emotionless lines you made me believe in who I was.
The time when everyone left,
But you stayed.
The time when I kept arguing over wrong statements,
And when you knew how to counter me with the right one.
All this time long,
You stayed and believed.
Maybe we never realised,
Maybe we never knew.
But this world had these two kinds,
Sherlock and Watson.
Each one searching for the other,
Sherlock's searching for Watson,
Watson's searching for Sherlock,
Maybe they are fine alone,
But maybe they are best when together.
Maybe a Sherlock would have never enjoyed the limelight,
Maybe he would have given up on himself way earlier,
Maybe he would have not been he.
But then Watson made it all happen.
Maybe that is how it works.
***Maybe one day we'll find our Sherlock,
Or maybe one day a Watson would find us.***
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:15 AM UTC
Too thrilled by the case,
Sherlock just disappears,
To begin with a chase,
John is let alone,
To get a cab, and go to Baker St. .
But wait- wherever he goes,
The telephone booth starts ringing!
He waits for somebody to pick up,
And continues to walk;
The third booth starts ringing,
The caller must be desperate to talk.
A black, shiny car,
Pulls over for John to ride,
The destination seemed far,
In this conversation-less hour.
"Anthea", answered the accompanying secretary,
When asked her name,
Fake it was,
Absolutely.
The anxiety was over,
John was confronted by a well-dressed man,
Who offered him money, to spy,
The guy, who deduced Watson's army background,
By his tan.
The "arch-enemy" of Sherlock,
As he introduced himself,
Told John about his psychosomatic disorder,
"You are back in the game,
You don't fear danger,
You've missed this lifestyle."
True it was,
Pretty much,
"Could be dangerous", wrote Sherlock,
And there he was dashing into 221B.
Sherlock was quite disappointed,
When he got to know about the declination,
Of that tempting offer,
"Pity, we could've split the fee",
He suggested John for the next time.
Isn't Mr. Holmes quite irksome,
Calling John from the other end of London,
Just to send a text?
No, this was not an ordinary text,
An SMS was just sent,
By Mr. Watson's phone,
To the murderer.
The murderer?
But why?!
Elementary for SH.
Found the case within an hour,
Which was now in front him.
His mind, is truly above par!
One thing missing from the suitcase:
Her organizer, her phone.
"Nah, she's is a clever woman,
A serial adulterer,
Would never leave her phone at hotel",
This Holmes said, backed by balance of probability.
They waited at a restaurant,
And the wait was long,
But worth it.
Had to chase a taxi,
which was done successfully,
Thanks to Sherlock's excellent memory.
Hence proved it was,
The psychosomatic limb of Doctor.
A drugs bust had occurred at their place,
Seriously, this man, a deduction ****** would have drugs?
"I'm not a psychopath Anderson,
I'm a high functioning sociopath,
Do your research!"
Snapped Mr. Punchline.
Just a couple of minutes later,
This brilliant sleuth realized-
"Rachel! Yes, Rachel!
This woman in pink, Jennifer,
Is clever,
And she's dead!",
much to Mr. Holmes's displeasure.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Sherlock is indebted, forever;
To Mike,
For he made it possible for Holmes,
To meet the (only) friend of his life.
Oh look at John,
How baffled he was,
For he had just met a man,
About him, who knew all.
The army doctor thing, the Afghanistan war,
And that his sibling was alcoholic,
About this Sherlock was sure.
Without a word about himself,
Just the name and address,
Holmes went away,
Leaving John, with many questions,
And their answers for him to guess.
A queer flat mate, he was, a bit rude
Sherlock, you know;
Mrs. Hudson was nicer,
But not their housekeeper!
Apparently, SH would play violin to think,
Knew it was DI Lestrade at the door,
And there was another ******
Including this one, counting to four,
Without a hint.
The crime scene was sealed,
Under supervision of Donovan,
And according to Sherlock,
There was something going on,
Between her,
And Anderson.
A woman was dead,
Wore everything in pink,
Holmes deduced her marriage state,
Just by her ring!
He slammed the door at Anderson,
For he (SH) found him irritating.
“Rache is not for revenge”, Holmes said,
“She was writing Rachel, obviously”.
Left-handed she was,
And was carrying a suitcase,
But as Lestrade said,
There was never a case.
Mr. Holmes was so excited then,
He teased others to be stupid,
Watson helped him make a point,
In order to find the criminal,
But Holmes believed,
The pink case was the cupid.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Dear Sherlock,
Please get out of my mind.
You distract me,
Like sparkles in the wine.
When I want to sleep,
You shout in my head- "Boring!".
Even when I am doing my favourite subject,
After each question I correctly solve,
You whisper in your deepest voice-
"The game is on."
I keep myself away from the laptop screen,
But do you have any theory to avoid you in my brain?
If yes, ugh! Please do tell this teen.
Maybe I should develop this 'mind palace',
And assign a separate room to you.
And during my busy hours,
I swear, Sherlock,
On it, I'll put a heavy lock.
I need to do my work,
But on the desk in my head,
You always seem to lurk.
Now please go away from me,
Or I'll call John and then you see!
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
**~~~~~Spoilers Ahead~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Didn’t know SH was so amazing,
A second degree mind palace,
He was keeping.
What we watched in an hour,
And were perplexed by, for days,
Had taken place in his mind,
In mere 300 seconds!
Baffled with the news of return of Moriarty,
He decides to solve a similar case,
That had occurred 120 years ago.
He recreates his whole life,
Complete,
With Irene’s photograph,
In his pocket watch.
Fits all the pieces in 1895,
All,
Including John’s witty wife,
Then enters the ‘cleverer one’,
And fatter this time,
Having already made a theory,
He asks Sherlock to do the leg-work,
Because Mycroft himself is busy,
Trying to beat his little brother.
The game is afoot again,
All in Sherlock’s complex brain,
He exposes the truth,
Of Mrs. Ricoletti’s death,
Just as he was about to know about Moriarty’s,
He’s is woken by his friend.
But he goes back again,
To complete the story.
To solve the mystery,
He goes to the Falls,
To again finish the problem,
The final problem.
But this time John interrupts,
In 1895,
And kicks Moriarty off the cliff,
To let Mr. Holmes happily, alone,
Complete the fall.
Now he returns to the present,
With a smile conveying I-know-it-all,
And he does know all about the villain,
His death, his plans,
And the rest.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
The feels rack me
Fits of squealing
In the dark so no one will see
Tumblr plans the wedding,
Look! My otp!
I ship it so hard
It actually pains to read fanfics
The ****
The fluff,
We read it all
Just
To get more
Of those
Life giving feels.
Arms flap,
The cuteness makes us skip meals
One more episode.
When's sherlock season 3?
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
I long for change
but refuse to do the leg work
to get there
I'll walk down the sidewalk
avoiding the same glares
I never acknowledged the ordinary faces
which could alter my local reality, so
No, I resign to be a stranger
My sober brother won't stop
moving on a day-off adventure
but just as I got outta bed to see what was up
The spot on the driveway was empty
nothing but a power steering fluid puddle, left
It's hard to turn, but he's gone
Anyhow
now I sit here resigned to make some armchair change
it's better than the bed
and instead of organizing this squalor
I work in it
My disgust calmed
by good use of my possessions
I found a scrap of rotting meat
only to find
it was the pit of a plum I ate
New growth from death
with nothing but an investigative mindset
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC