FOREVER REBLOG! IT’S SOO TRUE!
(read top to bottom, first column then second column)
that was wonderful
“I’ve been online and looked at all the theories and there’s one clue that everyone’s missed. It’s something that Sherlock did that was very out of character, but which nobody has picked up on.” - Steven Moffat
Sherlock has his phone (looks to me like that at least) in his hands there, hiding it cleverly in his coat sleeve most of the times.
Why? That leads to my idea related to quote above from Steven Moffat.
I am referring to the conversation between Sherlock and Jim on the roof. Sherlock is doing something out of character there: He’s asking questions, he seems confused. But only that much to not make Jim suspicious.
Sherlock: But the rhythm …
Jim: Partita no. 1, thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach
Sherlock: But then how did you …?
And then Jim explains his entire plan how he broke in several important buildings at once. It’s not the only time in that conversation where Sherlock acts like the “dumber one” of both, of course not too bluntly so Jim doesn’t realize what’s going on.
Why does Sherlock act like he’s lost and hasn’t figured out Jim’s entire plan? So he can record what Jim is saying (in sense of a confession) on his phone, which he has in his hand/coat sleeve.
When you watch the scene again, Sherlock steps to the edge of the roof, till to that point he was acting. Then he starts laughing, cause he feels like he has won. The most important parts he probably has recorded. So he steps back down again. Now he’s back to his “normal self”. I feel like you can see it in his attitude even (comparing 2nd screenshot with 3rd)
Later, when he’s on the phone with John, Sherlock says: “This is my note.”
Before he jumps of the building, he throws the phone away, to leave it on the roof.
Hmm, these are my thoughts to the scene so far.
EVERYONE READ THIS THIS IS AMAZING AND SO PERFECT.
JUST READ IT OKAY?
Need to watch this, judging by the comments and reactions.
SHERLOCK FANS. WATCH NOW. WATCH. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. WATCH. SHIVERS ARE AN UNDERSTATEMENT. YOU WILL JUST BECOME A GIANT GOOSEBUMP. YOU WILL CRY AND LAUGH AND SCREAM. YOU WILL BE ASKING YOURSELVES WHY HASN’T BBC PICKED THIS UP AS A PROMO FOR SERIES 3. YOU WILL BE ASKING YOURSELVES WHY YOU WERE SO STUPID TO WATCH THE SHOW IN THE FIRST PLACE, BECAUSE IF YOU HADN’T, YOU WOULDN’T GRASP THE PHENOM THAT IS THIS VIDEO AND BE ASKING YOURSELF WHY ARE ALL THE EMOTIONS WHYYYY.
TWEET THIS TO MOFFAT!
that description is so fucking accurate, I am literally one GIANT goosebump omfg
*LITERALLY FUCKING SCREAMING*
dkhsjk;cbkbvgjfkbafhqfhkgjbdfdfdw OMFG!!! IS THIS REAL LIFE?!
OH MY GOD GOOSEBUMPS AND TEARS
(read top to bottom, first column then second column)
oh I love this!!
John raised his gun and found that he couldn’t aim properly because his hands were shaking. Ever since his first few months in Afghanistan, he had been able to hold the gun firmly even in life-threatening situations. What was the problem now? Maybe it was because of Sherlock’s pleading eyes that seemed to scream help me. Maybe it was because he could tell that Sherlock was quickly running out of breath and, god help him, if he didn’t shoot on time Sherlock might actually die.
No. No, he couldn’t think about that now. He needed to stop thinking, to wipe his mind blank and get into the familiar zone that he had developed in his years deployed.
But John couldn’t do that so easily this time…Not when he felt as though a hand was constricting around his heart and he was slowly falling apart.
I didn’t even get to tell him I love him.
That was the last desperate thought to cross his mind before he took aim and shot.
After that night, those words, that fear, the clenching feeling in the pit of his stomach left him entirely. He was swallowed again by the off-tempo rhythm of life with Sherlock: they had cases, they had thumbs in the fridge, they had sleepless nights where Sherlock played the violin for hours and John lay awake upstairs, listening. They had time.
That’s what it was, what had possessed that thought: the desperate pressure of lives ending. It was only that threat that brought his true emotions to light, that made him acknowledge what he knew was there.
I love him. I didn’t even get to tell him I love him.
Those words didn’t cross his mind again until at least a year had passed. And when they did, Sherlock was jumping from a rooftop and there was nothing John could do to save him.
Now, his hands hardly ever stop shaking.
His limp has gotten worse, he could tell, and the shaking’s never gone away…but he was better now. He had a loving wife who supported him despite his failings, despite those sleepless nights when he would sit with his shoulders shaking with barely contained crying. He went to work everyday and earned a good wage, enough to let them live a comfortable life together. There was no danger and no chasing down random criminals at godforsaken hours in the morning.
Good. This was good.
No. No no no. This was not good. It was all a lie. He knew yet he tried to suppress it everyday and every moment when his wife would smile at him happily and tell him she loves him. Good was when Sherlock was by his side; good was when he could look at Sherlock and see him laughing.
Good was when Mary wasn’t lying dead at his feet.
Nothing. He had nothing left. John laid a flower on her grave and then walked over to Sherlock’s to do the same. He lingered there with his hand resting on the tombstone gently. “What do I do, Sherlock?” He whispered. “What can I possibly do?”
“You can turn around.”
And when John did, only one thing crossed his mind before he shortened the distance between them and pressed a desperate kiss to those lips: I didn’t even get to tell him that I love him. But now…now I can.