Wow, Moriarty got really good at this.
And his messages are getting more and more obscure
He carved a rose for John Watson. A flower to place on the grave of a lover. The fruit of the apple grew brown with time, withered and rotten, but at first the petals were white - an innocent love, unconsummated. There were three more waiting to be carved. John would have a bouquet to present to the tombstone of Sherlock Holmes.
The second apple, Seb had carved. A cock-eyed assassin, grinning with a knife in his mouth. Jim did enjoy Sebastian’s artistic pursuits.
The third was for the elder Holmes. Layers upon layers of intrigue; or, the countless ways a human heart could be filleted, rather than burned.
Jim had carved the bird and the butterfly to Miss Molly Hooper on one of their tedious dates. He had given her the butterfly first, and her eyes had sparkled almost, he suspected, with tears. No one had given the poor girl a gift quite so lovely. The bird he made purely to out-do himself; and it helped him to ignore her prattling as she poked at her pasta. She did cry, then. And probably cried that much harder after Sherlock, delightfully meddlesome, had reveal to her who Jim Moriarty really was.
The last apple was his. He had a crown, after all, and the entire mealy, bitten world with it.
—CT
(Source: mad-variables)
YOU HAD ONE JOB JOHN. ONE JOB
So people talk about Benedict’s characters always dying in his films or being very tragic (the first example that comes to mind is of course Third Star, which is a total Kleenex fest), but Martin Crieff is the character out of all them that I deem most heartbreaking. GUYS, THIS IS MEANT TO BE A COMEDY.
There’s a lot of Sherlock/John on my blog, so I can see why you might be fooled, but Martin Crieff/Happiness is the real OTP here.
oh how i love this
Sherlock Holmes (2009) & Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011)
In which Watson looks disapprovingly over his newspaper.
(Source: radiophile)