mixture of my latest Holmes/Watson fan-arts :3
1. BBC Sherlock from summer holidays (it’s bit older ^^; ) - trying to draw with ink pencil :)
2. Classical Holmes and Watson (from book :) ) commission for lovely Antwort - http://antwort.deviantart.com/ ^.^
3. Russian Holmes fan-art for my dear friend Kaminek - http://kaminek.deviantart.com/ >.<
4. BBC Sherlock for contest :3
s-u-w-i has a Tumblr, go like their art :)
For Amanda… ;)
(First one of a long queue for today, guys! All by the wonderful Tabbystardust)
I fucking love this moment so much I can’t even tell you.
Through long and arduous semic analysis, scientists have now narrowed down the main elementary units of signification present in all Sherlock Holmes incarnations and condensed them into this scene of high scientific credibility.
[from BBC 2’s Peter Serafinowicz show]
One of my favourite sketches of all time.
This is the best. If you haven’t seen it yet run HERE and watch.
Starring: Vasily Livanov as Sherlock Holmes and Vitaly Solomin as Dr. Watson.
John met Sherlock on January 29th, 1881. That makes their friendship 133 years old today.
"One hundred and thirty-three years, you say." Holmes accepts the flute of champagne the good doctor holds out to him. "Quite a span of time."
Watson smiles a little, scoops up his own glass, and brings it to Holmes’s for a resounding ting. “That’s what I thought.”
"And the champagne?" Holmes sips delicately, lifts his eyebrows at the money of the taste. "You have been paying attention, my dear Watson.”
"Kind of hard not to," Watson admits, and the tips of his ears pink, just barely.
"Why this most excellent champagne, then, if I must repeat myself? We hardly celebrated our centennial.”
Watson grins. “Maybe we did and you just don’t remember it,” he teases.
Holmes sniffs, lifts his chin. “Maybe I deleted it.”
"Look at you, keeping up with the times," Watson says, and his tone is more fond than the words would imply. "Speaking of which…"
Holmes’s eyebrows pinch together. “What’s got into you?” His eyes widen as Watson sets his glass to a side and takes the detective’s hands into his own. “Watson?”
"It’s been a long time - it’s been the best time, knowing you.”
Holmes draws breath as if to ask him to stop, or explain, but on the exhale it lodges in his throat, words and all.
"And for a long time now, my - regard for you has remained friendly and professional, even as it deepened with the passing years. Affection has bled into my thoughts of you, and now I find myself afflicted with something you will no doubt deem irreconcilable between us.” Watson takes a deep breath. “And thus the reason for the champagne, because this is either the beginning or the end of it.”
"Can it not stay the same? Can we not be as we always have been?" If Holmes’s voice is tremulous, it is most certainly not from sentiment.
And yet, his face pales as Watson shakes his head. “My dear Holmes, no. Without change, we would stagnate. You of all must know how destructive a force ennui can be?”
"Then what would you have us do? Part ways?" Before Watson can continue, Holmes starts to withdraw his hands. "You have had enough of me then."
The surgeon’s (and now blogger's) hold tightens about those slender, trembling, violinist fingers.
"God, no," Watson answers, and it is with a fervor and conviction that sets Holmes’s heart racing; it’s a tone meant for the chase, for moonless nights, for uncovering truths. "I would have us grow closer. I would have you - " and now the doctor moves so as to be almost flush to the detective, "I would have you for my own."
There is a silence in 221b, a silence such has never occurred in the flat before - tense and buzzing it is, with all the things unsaid until now, because they have just been summed up, and and quite succinctly, too.
"Why now?" Holmes must ask, because some things change, but never this. He must know why.
"Because the world has changed, and we are in it. Because we have changed so much already," Watson adds wryly, his eyes tracing the latest of Holmes’s visages, a self-deprecating quirk of his chin indicating his own stature. "Because I am tired of using lukewarm words to garb my love for you. I am tired of choosing lesser actions and greater distances."
Holmes finds he is, quite suddenly, sitting, which necessitates that Watson crouches, still cupping their hands in the dwindling space between them.
"Easy, Holmes," Watson says, and there’s almost no hint of cheek as he adds, "I did not know you would be so affected."
"Sherlock," comes the reply. "Please," Verdigris eyes, familiar even in this incarnation, come up to meet his, "John."
"Alright, then," John accepts, and then he nods, and he leans in, meaning to come to his detective, but those lips meet his half way.
After a moment’s touch and shared breathing, two sets of eyes flutter open. “Is this alright?” John asks, and his eyes miss not one twitch of Sherlock’s lips and eyes as he thinks through his reply - processes, to use the parliance of their time.
Those eyes focus on his, and those lips curve into a smile. “I think, my dear John, you will find that it’s all…fine.”
The champagne is a fine vintage, like their acquaintanceship - but unlike their bond, it goes to waste that night and is forgotten.
What they have lives on and grows.
The Sign of Four, 1890.
#i’m convinced that watson over-exaggerated holmes’ aversion to emotion and love #so that scotland yard didn’t arrest them haha (x)ssaaaaammmeee