Tag Archives: steven moffat

Doctor Who-The Pilot [Fanedit]

 

Link

Had so many ideas for this I couldn’t just wait for the DVDs

Changes

-Titles now come at the close of The Doctor’s speech about the TARDIS acronym meaning “life”

-Episode proceeds as normal until Bill enters The TARDIS. We skip her lines abou t needing the toilet and The Doctor directing her to one, cut from The Doctor’s “gateway to everything” speech to their arrival at the Vault
-Cut The Doctor and Bill in Australia, take them to the alien planet immediatly
-End the episode on Bill’s remark that her tears may not be hers. Cut The Doctor trying to mindwipe her.
-Coming Soon trailer should be a mix of the episode’s version and the original Time For Heroes trailer

SHERLOCK-THE THREE WORDS [PDF]

180

This is a short 41-page novella based on the Conan Doyle short story “The Adventure of the Three Garidebbs” using the arc structure of series four. It serves as an alternative follow-up to “The Lying Detective”. While the novella does end on a cliffhanger, I intend to follow it up with another novella which I hope to release sometime soon.

 

The Three Words

Doctor Who-Leave The Dead To Dust [A Short Screenplay]

Zygon

“LEAVE THE DEAD TO DUST”

A SHORT SCREEN PLAY BASED OFF OF “HELL BENT”

 

  1. EXT- DESERT-DAY

Several Gallifreyan younglings are playing a game of tag with one another when a stern, commanding middle-aged woman urges them to seek shelter within-she has spotted someone approaching in the distance.

This person- THE DOCTOR- his coat slung over his shoulder, his head flooded with sweat under the searing sun of his homeworld. He has walked many miles and the fatigue is visible on his weary head.

Still, he walks with purpose, heading towards the hut. It is a place very familiar to him-very personal-he begins to reminisce…

CUT TO-

  1. INT-HUT-NIGHT (FLASHBACK)

Flashback to “LISTEN”, where CLARA OSWALD’s familiar voice sooths the frightened and distressed YOUNG DOCTOR. She assures him all is well.

CUT BACK TO:

  1. EXT-DESERT-DAY

A CLOSE UP OF THE DOCTOR’S FACE,  there is clear and visible anger here…a man driven to his limits. Clara’s voice can still be heard to echo all around our ears.

CUT TO:

  1. INT-HUT-DAY

The Doctor enters the hut and is greeted by the woman, the younglings cowering behind her. CLOSE UPs of their frightened faces. The woman looks concerned…for a moment.

The Doctor does not say a word. He lets his eyes do the talking. 

The Woman’s facial expressions go through a series of expressions-curiosity turns to excitement-she recognizes him!

Then, as quickly as that expression appears-it’s gone, as a looming dread washes over her.

Her hesitation to speak ends abruptly.

WOMAN:

They’ll kill you

CUT TO:

OPENING TITLES

CUT BACK TO:

  1. EXT-GALLIFREYAN CAPITAL-DAY

Within the domed capital of the planet GALLIFREY, we see panic on the streets as the familiar tolling of CLOISTER BELLS ring from every corner of the city. 

We PAN UPWARDS from the streets of the city to a majestic ,gleaming TOWERING STRUCTURES. Buildings belonging to the most elite and privileged of Gallifreyan society-THE HIGH COUNCIL OF TIME LORDS.

We steadily ZOOM IN on the central tower. Peering out of the structure is a robed figure- a stressed and perturbed expression on his features, his head resting against the metallic hand he has leaned on the glass of the window giving him a view of the city

CUT TO:

  1. INT-HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBER

It is a frantic and bustling scene as Time Lords of supreme stature receive a visit from the captain of the CHANCELLERY GUARDS. He leans down on one knee and bows before the assembled Time Lords

GUARD CAPTAIN:

My Lord President

The President turns from the window to address the captain

LORD PRESIDENT

The entire cloister is ringing Captain Gastron…how many of the Wraiths are active?

GASTRON:

All of them sir.

LORD PRESIDENT

Then we are facing great danger

Another of the assembled Time Lords, THE GENERAL, last seen in “DAY OF THE DOCTOR”,  intercedes

THE GENERAL:

What of The Doctor?

GASTRON:

Returned  to his roots sir, the orphanage just east of the capital.

LORD PRESIDENT:

Despatch a squadron to retrieve him immediately.

The General takes The President aside

GENERAL:

Lord President, I have been in contact with Karn. Ohlia of the Sisterhood requests an audience

LORD PRESIDENT (angry)

They are exiles, cut off from our society, they should have no influence on the affairs of this planet!

GENERAL:

Now is not the time to remind us of how divided we are. The hybrid is a danger that threatens all corners of the Universe.

The President’s ire is quick to fade , his face one of solemn resignation to the matter at hand.

LORD PRESIDENT

Very well

CUT TO:

  1. INT-BARN-DAY

The Doctor is enjoying a piping hot bowl of soup. The Woman keeps the children at arm’s length, watching The Doctor silently. The Doctor does not say a word, he takes a few spoonfuls.

One child chooses to be brave and breaks off from the sheltered group to ask The Doctor a question

CHILD

You’re sad. Most sad. I can see it in your eyes. Why is this so?

The Doctor stares coldly at the child, there is no compassion even in moments where there should be.

The Woman pulls the child back, The Doctor resumes his meal.

A distant rumble can be heard in the distance. Steadily, the noise gets louder, the table and soup bowl begins to shake.

Some of the children begin to talk amongst themselves. Some are frightened.

THE WOMAN

Wait here

She exits through the main door, the bright and searing sunlight seeps into the room, illuminating The Doctor. The children remain transfixed by him…and somehow all their fears evaporate

The Woman steps back into the barn, she steadily approaches The Doctor, anxious, but resolute.

THE WOMAN

They’ve come for you

The Doctor stares back at the children. He slowly rises to his feet and walks up to the Woman.

THE DOCTOR

Tell them everything will be alright

The Woman finally permits herself a grin. The children smile too. Though his soul is lost, The Doctor is not without heart.

The Doctor pats the Woman tenderly on the shoulder and opens the door

CUT TO:

  1. EXT-BARN-DAY

The Doctor peers out of the door to find a small platoon of Gallifreyan storm troopers awaiting him. Towering high above them is a Gallifreyan assault ship, it’s weapons firmly and locked on to the soil on which The Doctor stands.

The leader of the platoon, BESTRAL, approaches The Doctor and extends his hand in a gesture of friendship

 BESTRAL

Doctor, I am Captain Bestral, on behalf of the high council, I welcome you back…

The Doctor has no time for pleasantries, especially from this type of person. He quickly takes a few steps backwards back into the barn and slams the door firmly shut, leaving the guards flabbergasted.

BESTRAL

Put me through to the High Council

CUT TO:

  1. INT-HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBER-DAY

Bestral is granted an audience with the assembled Time Lords. The President a tad overeager for progress to be made. His iron gauntlet shimmers with sheer power as if to more clearly convey his frustration as he tries to maintain a sense of composure.

LORD PRESIDENT

Why do you delay?

BESTRAL

                 He is being… difficult…Lord President, as you had foreseen

The President turns to The General, his features contorted as he juggles disbelief and paranoia.

LORD PRESIDENT

What does he want?

THE GENERAL

What any victim of the confession trials want and seldom never receive my Lord…a reckoning.

CUT TO:

  1. INT-BARN-DAY

The child that had noted The Doctor’s sadness from earlier spots the Time Lord searching through a casket. He removes several items, including several fob watches and an Edwardian era Jacket. At one point, he finds a packet of Jelly Babies. He takes a few out and offers them to the boy.

THE DOCTOR

Care for one?

CHILD

No one’s supposed to touch anything in there

THE DOCTOR

Because a grownup said so?

CHILD

We have to obey orders, they say we’ll become soldiers one day

THE DOCTOR

How long has it been since this planet last saw war?

CHILD

They say war is as eternal as time.

THE DOCTOR

And just like time…it inevitably passes.

The Doctor finds what he is looking for, a musical instrument, a wooden, six string guitar, he plays a solemn version of Clara’s theme on it. The children all gather around him as he plays, transfixed by the occasion. Even The Woman, trying to maintain a semblance of structure and attempting to pry the children’s attention away from The Doctor, cannot help but be moved.

CHILD

There was such sadness in your eyes…now there is pain in this song. This one, does it have a name?

The Doctor spots something in the crate, the small soldier figurine from “Listen”, he stares at it, a sense of longing in his ancient face

THE DOCTOR

I think it’s called…Clara

A voice from behind the door swiftly interrupts them

BESTRON

Doctor, this is your last warning. Accompany us to the capital, or we will be forced to remove you from this dwelling by force

CHILD

What are you going to do?

The Doctor begins playing a different track on the guitar, “Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky”

THE DOCTOR

Don’t worry, it’s empty words. I trust them to follow their conscious. They know what I did in the last war.

CHILD

What did you do?

THE DOCTOR

I did some counting

  1. INT-HIGH COUNCIL CHAMBER

We find the President  is again in great distress, his frustration knows no limits as the guards delay outside the hut

LORD PRESIDENT

Who do they think he is to warrant more delay?

THE GENERAL

The man who won the time war sir

Ohlia and the Sisterhood of Karn enter the chamber, flanked by guards

OHLIA

I see The Doctor’s homecoming has not come without it’s inevitable problems

LORD PRESIDENT

He blame us for the horrors he faced in the confession dial

OHLIA

No, not at all..he just blames YOU

CUT TO:

  1. INT-HUT-DAY

The Doctor is perched on a straw bed, hearing the music he’d been playing earlier played back to him by the child, who he is now allowing to play with the guitar. He hears another loud hum overhead. He steadily rises to his feet, he seems to know this is the kind of  house call he had been desiring. His reckoning is here

  1. EXT-HUT-DAY

The President of the Time Lords, flanked by Bestron and his guards, stand outside the hut

  1. INT-HUT-DAY

The Doctor takes the Edwardian jacket from the pile left on the floor and puts it on. He make his way to the door. The woman and children are there to greet him. The woman is conflicted, not wanting to defy the President, but does not desire The Doctor to give himself up when he has brought much joy to her children.

WOMAN

He’s waiting for you…I don’t think we should delay any further. If you knew the stories about what he can do…I don’t wish for that on the boys, you understand of course.

THE DOCTOR

Yes. I know. This is where we part, thank you for all you’ve done for me

The child, still holding the guitar in his right hand, tugs at The Doctor’s coat with his left.

CHILD

Will we see you again?

THE DOCTOR

In time…and maybe in space. It’s a big universe. You could do with running straight into it when you’re older

The Doctor pats the child on the head and boldly takes steps to exit the Hut.

CUT TO:

  1. EXT-HUT-DAY

The bright searing Gallifreyan sunlight bursts forth and some of its rays illuminate the tense showdown between The Doctor and the President

LORD PRESIDENT

We did not go to this much trouble for you to create discord upon your return

THE DOCTOR

Get off my planet

The President laughs

LORD PRESIDENT

You have no gratitude. Were it not for my orders, you would not standing before me now with a new face…a new life

THE DOCTOR

This face is old, this life is scarred. Also by your orders. Another life has been lost. I do not forget these deeds.

LORD PRESIDENT

Your companion’s death was a result of her own reckless overconfidence

THE DOCTOR

You set a trap for me and she walked straight into it

LORD PRESIDENT

We required your assistance

THE DOCTOR

You could have summoned me

LORD PRESIDENT

And give our location away to our enemies? We are more vulnerable now than ever Doctor, we have seen much conflict since returning to this universe. Many have tried to stand in Gallifrey’s ruins.

THE DOCTOR

There were other ways

LORD PRESIDENT

You would have been difficult to deal with if merely summoned. You may not have been willing to tell us all you know about the Hybrid, a danger to us all

THE DOCTOR

The Hybrid was a story

LORD PRESIDENT

Every story ever told is history Doctor, history that has either been prevented by us, or history that is bound to happen if we leave it unchecked

THE GENERAL

You said you were the Hybrid Doctor

THE DOCTOR

Yes I did, and no, I didn’t. Have you been paying attention to history?

LORD PRESIDENT

Tell us what you know

THE DOCTOR

Get off my planet

LORD PRESIDENT

Gallifrey is mine

The President raises his iron glove, it begins to glow

THE GENERAL

Lord President, please, this is not the way

THE DOCTOR

No, let him sic his mitten on me, it’s bringing out the colour in those ice-cold cheeks

LORD PRESIDENT

I do not jest Doctor, I shall go to any lengths to get the truth. In the confession dial you died time and again…and where we come from, time has no desire to leave the dead alone.

The Doctor stands firm, we continuously CUT BETWEEN CLOSE-UPS of the two staring intently at each other, neither backing down from what they mean or say.

Finally, one Time Lord can stand it no longer.

GENERAL

Lord President, do not-

The President unleashes a sudden burst of energy from his glove, the General throws himself into the line of fire and becomes a smouldering wisp of smoke and ash.

The Doctor catches the President unawares with a firm right hook, the President falls to the floor, The Doctor places one foot soundly on his glove as guards swarm over them

The Doctor removes the President’s glove

THE DOCTOR

Take a look at what he is willing to do here, make a choice.

The Doctor stares at the remnants of the General’s clothes, a pained yet stern and commanding presence on his face as he recalls the smoke pouring from Clara’s corpse in “FACE THE RAVEN”

The soldiers drop their weapons and pick up the fallen President, restraining him, their choice made

LORD PRESIDENT

I am Rassilon, the redeemer, Rassilon the resurrected, Gallifrey is mine. You will obey me!

THE DOCTOR

Noone is your servant and you are not The Master, and I mean that quite literally. You do not rule over these men or any other. Not any longer.

Rassilon is taken back to his ship, he looks over at the children staring back at him. The young boy plays ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky’ on the guitar

THE DOCTOR

Nicely played kid.

BESTRAL:

My Lord Doctor, shall I order the potion mixers back at the capital to prepare the General for resurrection?

THE DOCTOR

No, no soldier, he’s  earned his rest. Even as it comes to claim us all, it’s best for life and time if we merely leave the dead to dust.

 

Sherlock-The Losing Side

180

 

SHERLOCK:

THE LOSING SIDE

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

(Contains spoilers for “The Final Problem”)


It was a casket. That’s all it was, all it needed to be.

A simple wooden casket, inanimate distraction for the three lively souls inhabiting an otherwise cold and barren room.

But everyone stops looking after three.

“It’s funny how little God or whatever authors all our pain in life cares about death these days, recordings of Mary from beyond, recordings of me from beyond, you just wish someone would learn to lie still in one of these” emitted a composed, sophisticated yet slightly unhinged voice from behind Sherlock. The Detective looked around him, John and Mycroft both stood ridged, not moving, staring completely beyond him, like he didn’t matter.

Sherlock turned to his right and found James Moriarty standing beside him, carving out an apple with a jagged knife.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asked of his nemesis.

“I’m precious” he said.

“To me? Because I’ve obsessed myself with every move you’ve ever made in this game?”

“Oh you’re not done yet with that are you?” Moriarty asked, “Do learn to move on, we’re past caring about the moves I’ve made, they’ve never been mine to make to begin with”

Sherlock deduced they were in his mind palace, his rapid fire mind indulging in the precious moments spent in between two extreme expressions of his rarely seen emotional range. The former was still taking the time to process, the latter sat there simmering, waiting for release, a release that would only come with full acceptance of the former.

It was in these precious few moments that Moriarty had taken the opportunity to conjure up himself, or rather, that Sherlock had chosen Moriarty to symbolize an ever increasing array of reactions and responses.

“It’s all up there Sherlock” Moriarty continued “Your paranoia, you believe so highly in your aspirations of godhood, you think the most biblical of things can still find a way to manifest on this plane of existence”

“What are you to this situation? And I don’t just mean what’s going on there…I meant, this moment, what do you mean to THIS moment?”

“I’ve been so underlooked in this little triangle haven’t I?” Moriarty said in a sly, taunting manner, taking a bite out of the apple, several worms wriggling through its core, he took one out of the centre and gently slipped it into his mouth.

“You remember don’t you? The night we met, you summed me up in one agonizing word, and it dashed all her fantasies. I was precious alright, but not to you Sherlock, oh no…”

“Stop it” Sherlock said.

“I was precious to her. Three times we went out after you called me gay, three pleasant little dates, but no attempt was made at second base, she listened to you after that. You ruined her big chance, but she still followed your judgement. She thought you knew best. Mothers know best you know that?”

“If you have a point to make, do try to draw it out so I can keep it together” Sherlock replied.

“Oh, would you rather you give that order, or would you prefer the soldiers at your side to do so?” Moriarty asked, pointing to Mycroft and John as they headed towards the room’s freshly unlocked exit.

“What makes you think you can hold it together? You can’t, that’s why I’m here, to finally follow up on my promise all those years ago back at that pool”

Sherlock’s fist tightened as he stared at the casket. His temper began to rise, he had only seconds left, but the recesses of his mind palace stretched time out further. He had to maintain control of the web he was at the centre of.

He would not permit Moriarty to win.

“Remember that promise? That I would burn the heart out of you?”

“I made a promise too…a vow, and while I may have stumbled in attempting to honour it, I intend to further my commitment to it, so you see I have to maintain control, I cannot give into the losing side” Sherlock continued.

Moriarty laughed.

“Ah yes, changing the goalposts, trying to bring it all back around to the science of emotion, chemical defects, the works. Easy to see why you would, I mean, a man made of your kind of metal can’t possibly have a heart can he?” Moriarty continued, spitting part of the apple back into the detective’s face.

“Unless you strip away that armour, all that you were, all that you hid behind, and force yourself to hand all of your needs over to someone else, someone who’d seen you for all you were, and still wanted you to have all of her. There isn’t a single scientific deduction or evaluation that can dictate that course of action Sherlock, that can only come from the soul”

“Enough” Sherlock urged the grim spectre of his nemesis as he nudged him even further.

“And even when you went into hiding, even when you went deep underground, even as you buried yourself, she threw herself into the world trying to move forward, only to keep coming up short. She latched on to fiancés who she dropped at a moment’s notice because you were back in her life, you had taken her as an assistant, spent it on a couple of dates you usually reserve for John. Oh he must have been jealous, lord knows you thought about it enough times…”

“I picked her because I respect her, I appreciated what she did, I did it because she counted for something in the end…”

“Who knows where’d it’d have all led if you hadn’t noticed that ring on her finger, but then, you made your move on her anyway. A gentle brush against her cheek, enough to send her into so many thoughts of inadequacy and guilt, knowing she’d opted for someone so much less than you…”

“I didn’t realize…how could I? She gave no signals, there was no way of knowing if she felt…”

“..The same?” Moriarty continued.

Sherlock could sense John was trying to talk him into coming with him and Mycroft. He continued to hang around the coffin, carefully caressing it with one of his hands. His actions prior to this situation steadily flashing before him. His mannerisms, his expressions, his words, and, more importantly, his desire.

“She did everything for you” Moriarty continued, “Even gave up a whole life for herself, no matter how diminished and unfulfilled that life may have been, it was still hope that she held for the future, and just by being there, being who you are, you drove her away from that. You made her so vulnerable Sherlock, just like you make everyone. EVERYONE.”

“No…” Sherlock uttered as John called out his name.

The precious moments were almost up. He was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, all he needed was a most unkind command, a permission to act out his frustration.

“She is your heart, and you let her control your head. Look upon this box Sherlock, look upon your failure, your other vow , to honour your friendship, look at this box, and set yourself upon it. Your heart is exposed, it burns, my work is, at last, done. You said to Molly Hooper that you needed her words for a case, she gave all you’ve ever meant to her for the good of that case, now apply it to the world you’re committed to above all others.”

“No” Sherlock said, his calm demeanour fading, his armour steadily stripping away.

It was at this moment that he could hold back no longer.

The order finally came.

“Author her pain” Moriarty commanded.

His fists pounded into the casket with feverish and naked aggression, it fell apart in his raw hands almost like confetti, he tossed the remnants across the room, and emitted a primeval sorrowful scream at the top of his lungs.

He sunk to the floor of the cell, the casket lay in ruins, as did his heart.

Moriarty faded from sight, his work at last done, as the consulting detective came to terms with the most overbearing defect found in the losing side.

Love conquers all.

Even Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock-The Magician’s Circle

sherlock-molly

 

SHERLOCK:

THE MAGICIAN’S CIRCLE

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

(contains spoilers for “The Lying Detective”)


Sherlock briefly took his eye off of Molly as she checked his pulse.

“Keep still” Molly said, placing the cold end of the stethoscope onto to Sherlock’s bare chest, listening for any irregular beats. To her silent alarm, she found a few.

Sherlock could tell from her face that this was unsettling her.

“I don’t make it easy on you do I?” he asked.

“When you gamble with your health the way you have, no, no Sherlock it’s never easy” Molly replied.

“Do you think John is right? Do you think I use you?” Sherlock inquired.

“I like to be useful, that’s how I like to look at it” she said.

“A comfortable lie, obscuring truth…the truth is that I am not one of the better men in your life” Sherlock replied, coughing gently as Molly gave his lower regions a tight grip with her right hand.

“Most of the people in my life never respond to me, living or dead, the fact you and John still do puts you in far better company”

“What would it take for you to wash your hands of me?” Sherlock suggested.

“I think I’ve got a lot of you to wash off as it is” Molly remarked.

Sherlock’s face briefly lit up, appreciating the joke.

“No” he said calmly, “I mean this in the most sincere manner Molly Hooper, if you finally caved, if you believed I could never come back from the path I’ve travelled down, that I could not be fixed or saved, how would you convey that to me?” Sherlock asked.

“Are you asking me this because you’re not so sure you’re coming back from this?” Molly asked.

“I need you to look past the physical examination, and examine your sense of self…everyone has a breaking point…”

“I would break it to you gently” said Molly.

“Really?” Sherlock asked

“I’d…give something back too, something that was meaningful…to you, to me, to let you know that I wouldn’t want to keep even that which mattered”

“The riding crop?” Sherlock asked.

Molly sighed.

“This isn’t what you want to hear is it? What I would do…this is about what you think John would give back, if he felt he couldn’t put up with you anymore”

“I knew our brief time as investigators together would permit you to compose a most precise deduction” Sherlock said in a complimentary manner.

“I observe plenty, like you do, but I don’t exactly sit still and let it stir me” Molly replied in response, handing Sherlock his trousers. Sherlock quickly snatched them up.

“Thankyou for the thorough examination” Sherlock replied.

“His cane” Molly suddenly said aloud.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

Of course.

“If John didn’t want to come back, if he felt there was no going back, he’d hand you his cane, back when he had that phantom pain, the pain you…the pain you took away. He’d want you to have that, as a crutch” she said.

“Excellent, be sure to tell him that when you nip over to his place for some quality time with the baby” Sherlock replied.

“Wait, you want me to tell him…all that? What someone would do to cut ties to someone they care about?” Molly asked, confused.

“In her best sentimental manner, yes” Sherlock said.

“Are you trying something funny?” Molly inquired.

“We are crossing over to a place where there is no room for error or jest…I need John to part ways with that cane at a precise moment, a moment where everyone except myself must lose sight and sense of the plan”

“What if John sees it more like a trick?” Molly asked.

“Then I shall set myself a reminder that, to John, I must distinguish strategy from magic”

As Sherlock proceeded to put back on his clothes so that he may get on with more of what he had planned, Molly reflected on John’s words to her from earlier, about being used, and what Sherlock had just said to her.

She knew this wasn’t a game, and she would be as direct about that to Sherlock’s face as he would be to John, but she could not help but feel the long term goal Sherlock obviously had in mind, to mend the fractured path he and John walked together on, could be best mended by her playing along.

And to that end, she was determined to make her role count in the magician’s circle.

Sherlock-Unearthed From The Urban Meadow

sherlock-molly

SHERLOCK

UNEARTHED FROM THE URBAN MEADOW

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

(Contains spoilers for “The Lying Detective”)


Sherlock’s hands gripped John’s head tightly as the good doctor, qualified to deal with so much in life, came to grips at last with the imposing vacancy provided by loss.

Mary was gone, that reality had finally sunk in as John confessed to her lingering ghost of his interest in another, a woman on a bus, a pretty little flower that had unearthed itself from the urban meadow and, in a casual manner, had spurred John on to embrace her fragrance.

It always starts so casually, and from there the complications grow. The risk, the danger, all the addictive elements that make up the psyche of John Watson.

The elements that had led him so easily to Mary, a moth to flame, a flame now extinguished. He felt almost akin to a puppet, his strings cut, nothing holding him up.

He had to turn and face the strange, but to do so in the arms of a stranger would bring him no peace. It is only fitting then, that he find solace in Mary’s legacy.

The two of them together, Holmes and Watson, together again, each the strongest part of the other, built to last for as long as the grief and pressure shall burden them.

The tight embrace of the two men, however, could not endure the repetitive joyful moans of a sexually perverse ring tone on the table next to Sherlock’s chair.

“Oh will you bloody answer that already?” John asked of his dear friend, releasing his grip from Sherlock and tending to his wet and weary eyes beset by tears.

“That’s not how she plays the game” Sherlock replied.

“She lost her game years ago, this is life we’re dealing with” John replied.

“She said it wasn’t a game” Sherlock muttered.

“Who did?” John asked

“Last person to cross my mind…” Sherlock mumbled.

“Molly?” John said, probing further.

“When she examined me for the medical, she said the drugs in my body were steadily killing me, that she’d seen healthier bodies on the slab”

“You looked like utter shit and you acted like one” remarked John.

Sherlock picked up the phone to read the messages left to him by Irene Adler, John now aware of her persistent existence, and not being overly fond of Sherlock having to prioritise her now at such crucial a juncture.

“Well, spit it out, anything other than birthday wishes?”

“She just says ‘had lunch?” Sherlock replied.

“…Doesn’t she always want dinner?” asked John.

“This isn’t a want on her part John, it’s an ask. A ‘how are you doing?‘ My god, she’s at that phase of her private life where she wants some reassurance there’s a voice out there that isn’t too busy”

“Well you kind of are…busy” said John, urging Sherlock to put the phone away and continue to provide him some measure of solace.

“I could try to give her some clarity, but that would only serve to form a connection…”

“What exactly do you think we were just doing there?” John said, trying to keep his frustrations in slightly. But only slightly.

“You’re different, you’re within reach” Sherlock replied, “And you have a fresh wound, hers is but a lingering scar, I’m the scab she likes to prick at on the skin, hoping I’ll turn blood red and pour myself out to her”

“And are you? Remember what I said Sherlock” said John.

“About not letting people like that out of my sight? Must you be reminded of the connections she has to the web of Moriarty? I haven’t spared him a thought the last three weeks, but rest assured, I have made plans to appoint fresh concerns for his posthumous game for the next week…who knows, perhaps this is a part of it”

“So answer it, and get your assurances out of my way so you can continue to help those within reach”

“It would be so easy, but as I’ve learned John, the urban jungle flourishes through hardship and an instinctive desire to put up with so many above the individual. I have committed to that cause, as have you. I cannot permit myself to play a game when the players around me are too much sane, in mind or heart, to play with either me or the one I concern myself with”

“Right, well then, guess she isn’t that kind of person then?” John replied, a slight look of assurance on his face.

“Hooper?”

“Last person you think of, but her words are never the last thing you think of”

“Oh don’t start that again” Sherlock replied

“She is though Sherlock. Without a moment’s hesitation, she’s there; you just push her to the back benches like some unwanted MP, when she has been to hell and back for you as long as I have”

“She’s seen more men than me in a state of undesired undress, none of them as capable of satisfying her needs as I, and they happen to be deceased. I think that’s the minimal amount of hell she’s permitted” Sherlock replied.

“Then give her a slice of heaven Sherlock, let her see with her own two eyes how you rebuilt this bridge between us, show her that you don’t just set things on fire because you enjoy the world more when it’s alight, invite her over for lunch, you, me, her, Rosie, all together, we’ll go and have chips…”

“Oh no, I mustn’t think of chips” said Sherlock, reflecting on his troubled evening spent with Faith, a figment of his imagination that had almost trodden his reality underfoot and compromised his investigation into Culverton Smith.

“Cake then. A place with cake” John suggested.

“Is that the drug that makes you think you have about a month to cross the street?” Sherlock asked.

“A place with cake Sherlock, the usual sort, we’re going to all have that. Cake and coffee, and chit-chat”

“Will there be cream?” asked Sherlock.

“Are you saying that to entice you further into going along with this, or are you just glad you got a text from Adler?” asked John

“Last thing to cross my mind John, I assure you” Sherlock replied.

“There, see, you’re learning, push Molly slightly upwards, leave the pawn behind and give your all to the players” said John.

Sherlock pondered John’s words; he admired greatly how quick he was to turn from the temper brought on by the grief, and to put forward to him the reminders he needed. To elevate those important to him.

To give their words to him even greater meaning in micro-managing his own path through the streets of London.

But, perhaps more tellingly, to unearth his own flower from the urban meadow.