Pretty Things & Monsters: Reichenbach Explanation – Richard Brook was real – Rumpelstiltskin
The crackpot IOU theory left a lot of questions unanswered: Who is Richard Brook? Why is Sherlock’s behavior so out of character throughout the entire episode? Since when is Mycroft so stupid? What is the final problem? Why does Moriarty thank Sherlock before killing himself? There has to be…
If you’re having boy problems,
I feel bad for you, son.
I got 99 problems
and they’re all British actors over the age of 30.
down my shirt
Oh God… can’t even
Lost the ability to can.
Sherlock continued to observe John with a cocked eyebrow and his fingers still pressed together. John felt his cheeks flush and immediately looked at the ground.
‘It was.. It was popular.. in the army. You know? Just.. just an army thing. If you got angry.’
John could tell from the tone in Sherlock’s voice that he did see; that he saw very well and more than John would have liked him to. He cleared his throat, ‘Yes.. Yes. I am, very angry with you, Sherlock Holmes.’ Although John knew better, he still hoped that there was the slightest chance that Sherlock would not pick up on the slight shake in his voice. It was difficult to scold when you were acutely embarrassed with yourself, John realised.
‘Anything else?’ Sherlock hadn’t changed his position or observational look, still viewing John with mild interest.
‘Ah.. No. I’ll.. I’ll just go upstairs now. Alright? I’m, ah, very angry with you though, Sherlock.’ It was the fastest John had ever crossed the living room and bounded up the stairs.
Sherlock waited a moment, waited for the tell tale click of John’s latch closing, and then leapt up and into the kitchen, a whirlwind of curly black hair and suit.
‘Glue, glue.. glue..’ He muttered to himself, pawing and pushing at items in the overstocked fridge. Sherlock frowned. They were out of milk again. Mental note: Tell John that we’re out of milk.
Fingers, yellow fluid (what was that for, again?) cigar ash, a frozen innard. Aha, glue. Sherlock reached to the back of the fridge and pulled out the meek bottle of clear, gluggy fluid. It would take about 30 seconds in the microwave, Sherlock surmised. Non-toxic, the label said. Excellent. It would take roughly an hour to pass to his bladder, Sherlock hazarded as a guess.
Time to see how angry this made him.