Sybille Smith and the Army doctor John Watson went out of the door of 221B Baker Street. They turned right toward to Baker Street station. John had promised to his sister Harry, short for Harriet that he will come on Boxing Day. This day was Boxing Day. Sybille accompaned him. She had no family anymore after a terrible road accident two years ago. Actually, she didn´t knew about her family drama and their furneral really, because she lost her memories after a military truck driver drove over a land mine in Afghanistan where she was a year ago. She jumped out of the truck in the very last...
John looked out of the window. He saw Mycroft Holmes on the street, withdrawing. Suddenly John´s heart made a leap. On the other street side was someone in a long dark coat, thick scarf and had dark hair. It wasn´t Sherlock, John´s first thought. It was his flatmate Sybille he mixed up her for a moment to his dead friend Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock´s brother Mycroft was already in his Jaguar. He couldn´t see her. The Squad team withdrawal vehicle by vehicle the busy Baker Street. Sybille stood on the other side of this street and watched the happening like the other people who audienced it....
John dreamt that Sherlock is falling in front of him on the stone-hard pavement, lying in his own blood - dead! He, John Watson, wasn´t be able to save him, to rescue him. He looked up from the pavement and saw his friend Sherlock and Sissi, his new flatmate hand in hand standing on a blossomed meadow waving at him. They turned and walked away hand in hand in a glittering sunlight what seems to come from overall. This time his nightmare turned into something peacefully.
John Watson awoke, took a deep breath and stood up. He checked the alarm clock. Quarter past three on 24th...
Sybille was playing another tune as Mary came upstairs, joining John Watson, who stood still at the doorframe of the living room and listened to that music. Mary Brighton was Mrs Hudson´s niece, who was visiting her aunt in London. She came from USA where she studied. Sybille Smith, once homeless, now living with an invalid Army doctor names Dr John H Watson, suddenly broke up her violin play. She was surprised that she got an audience. The audience applauded and Sybille also called Sissi bowed.
John woke up. He was covered in his own sweat. All nights he had the same dream - no, not a dream, a nightmare! Sherlock is jumping off the roof; John is trying to catch him up for some seconds, but he is failing. His friend Sherlock crash landed deadly on the pavement right in front of him, covered in his own blood. John cried a little in his bed and took a deep breath to calm down. Then he turned the light on, stood up and went to the shared bathroom of the Baker Street. After refreshing himself he went back to his bedroom, as he heard a noise downstairs. He looked to the other bedroom -...
Mycroft stept in a chamber of the Intelligens Force. He put his umbrella in an umbrella stand in the corner greeting a pritty woman, who installed something. "Is it ready?" Mycroft asked. "Everything is prepared." "No any other copies?" "No, just this one." "Very good - Would you mind to leave me now? And not a word to nobody! This has never happend, you see?" The woman smiled. "Don´t worry, Mr Holmes." She went out of the room, closing the door behind her. Mycroft sat down infront of a disk player, breathed deeply, and pressed the button.
John Watson sat on a wooden bench on Russell Square. Nearly two years ago, he sat here on the same bench with Mike Stamford, his old friend and colleage from St Bartholomew hospital. They drank coffee and John complained about London´s high price living. Not an hour later John met his new flatemate Sherlock Holmes, arranged by Stamford. A man, who impressed him by his unbelievable quick and correct deduction by tiny traces and be involved in dangerous adventures, he never dreamt off. But Sherlock, his friend he becames, died three month ago by jump of the roof - St Barts´roof - and he, Dr...
"I always hear punch me in the face when you're talking but it is usually in subtext"
"Your face is putting me off"
"Your an idiot"
"I dislike being outnumbered, it makes for to much stupid in the room"
"You repell Me"
"Anderson, don't talk outloud you lower the IQ of the whole street"
"Shut up" "I didn't say anything" "You were thinking, its annoying"
"Stop inflicting your opinions on the world"
"What happened to the lipstick?" "It wasn't working for me" "Realy? I thought it was a big improvement your mouth is too small now"
Emmy Awards 2014: Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman won best actor and best supporting actor in a mini-series. Steven Moffat also won best writing in a mini-series for the final episode of Sherlock's third season. Congrats!
Posted over a year ago