Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
could_be_dangerous) wrote2013-03-18 10:04 pm
could_be_dangerous) wrote2013-03-18 10:04 pm
Entry tags:
app || entranceway
Name: V.
DW username: vvvvv
E-Mail: easypeasyeasypeasy@gmail.com
IM: hodudududuh (AIM)
Other Characters: N/A
Character Name: Sherlock Holmes
Series: BBC's Sherlock
Timeline: End of 2x03 – The Reichenbach Fall.
Canon Resource Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Sherlock_episodes
Character Background: Sherlock's early life is obscure; hardly mentioned in canon. The earliest solid information we have on him is his initial appearance in the series. At this point he has already established himself as a consulting detective, a career he invented and by all indications built from the ground up largely of his own accord. In the first episode we see also the inception of his friendship with John Watson, which serves in a way as the driving point of the events of the series as a whole.
Through this relationship, even in its budding stages, we begin to learn more about Holmes himself. There are hints of past drug use (likely cocaine, drawing from the original Holmes canon), hints of trouble with the law which seem to have sparked his association with Greg Lestrade, the Detective-Inspector with whom Sherlock works most closely and with whom he appears to share a relationship which, though not quite friendship at the start, is at least one of mutual respect – after a fashion.
The first episode of the series also marks the opening act of another sort of relationship: it is at the end of the first of his cases to which the audience is privy that Sherlock first encounters hints of his greatest enemy, James Moriarty, consulting criminal. As the series progresses, the two begin to orbit one another, their circumlocutions slowly deteriorating until a collision is inevitable. And, indeed, they do meet – Sherlock's inquiries into Moriarty's crime syndicate begin to spark the latter's interest, which eventually evolves into a dark fascination.
It is their initial meeting, sparked by a series of puzzles culminating ultimately in the capture of John Watson, that also marks a point of transformation in Sherlock's relationship with John. When his friend nearly dies, Sherlock finds himself in the uncomfortable (though perhaps not wholly unfamiliar) position of caring deeply enough for another human being that their well-being begins to outweigh his own. John's brush with death seems to affect him far more than his own – something Moriarty clearly anticipated, thus his kidnapping of John in the first place.
In the second series, Sherlock's career begins to flourish. John has been blogging their cases; as his blog gains popularity, so does Sherlock, and with that fame comes more cases – but also more risk. Having a name means that Sherlock can be manipulated, and having a name also means that that name can be ruined. This is the theme that drives this series. In the first episode, Sherlock's fame draws the attention of both the royal family and of Irene Adler, who seeks to outdo him. In the second episode, his fame both aids and hinders his investigations. Finally, in the penultimate episode, it is his downfall.
Moriarty makes his return, and wields the power of fame and of press to destroy Sherlock's reputation utterly, and his life along with it. His final act is to force Sherlock to commit suicide, thereby destroying any chance of his name being cleared. However, at the end of the episode, true to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's canon, Sherlock is seen having survived, having faked his own death through means as yet unknown.
Abilities/Special Powers: For the most part Sherlock is a completely normal human being. What powers he does have lie in his abilities of observation and deduction, by which he can work out in intimate detail aspects of the people around him and chains of events which occurred in his surroundings. His abilities come with a cost – remarkable though he may be, his genius does not help him better understand those around him, no matter how well he can read them. He is lacking in empathy and has difficulty understanding most people. They have difficulty understanding him, in turn, which contributes to his profound isolation. His abilities also make him suffer – it is likely he experiences some degree of sensory processing disorder, which both allows him to do what he does and leads to his being easily overwhelmed by ephemera and stimuli which most people can discount, thus his constant desire for work and mental stimulation.
Aside from his deductive abilities, Sherlock is also an accomplished chemist and a passably talented violinist.
Third-Person Sample: Like this Sherlock could be anyone. Gangly secondary school boy, drug addict, graffito, shop clerk, vagrant, book seller. Nobody. That's the secret, to be nobody, to be unremarkable, not to cover oneself with complex disguises but to walk like this, shoulders slumped and the worn soles of ratty sneakers scraping on the ground, just like thousands of other sneakers off the same assembly line do over thousands of stretches of floor elsewhere.
Like this he is anyone, unanchored, no longer tied to the familiar sightscenttouchsoundstastes of 221B Baker Street, which isn't his anymore. There's no more scent of tea Mrs. Hudson's perfume stain on the wallpaper by the floorboards (coffee, previous tenants) John's shape pressed into his chair even when he's not sitting in it, like a ghost, like it remembers; third step up creaks glassware in the kitchen heads in the 'fridge scent of his own shampoo on the pillow on the sofa but not the pillows on his bed and the shower is always so touchy–
None of that is his anymore. But when he imagines it, when he lets himself, he imagines that they'd let him back without a word, let him shrug back into his life like into his coat, like he'd never left it, and some night as though sharing the same thought he and John might wordlessly rise from their chairs by the fireplace and go out into the city, take a prybar to Sherlock's tombstone until his name is as indecipherable as he is now.
As indecipherable as this is now. This is not home. This is further from home than he ever imagined himself going. Perhaps he really is dead. Perhaps he's been drugged – again, yet again.
There are times, awful times, in which the entire world condenses itself into nothing more than a stretch of days, a timespan which Sherlock wishes could be blissfully indeterminate but never is, not without needles. Time which passes in achingly, infuriatingly precise intervals, ticking by in moments marked by stimuli sundry and useless, deductions not nonsensical but nonetheless inane, information only worth deleting. Never anything that means something, never anything which stands out from size eight shoes and the scuff marks on the floor of the flat from where its previous occupants moved their ugly furniture about – sofa, something big and boxy, hideous, rug was there, two chairs too close to the scorch marks near the fireplace – sudden impression of the scent of smoke which isn't usually nostalgic, just sense-memory, just there, which is usually the problem, but now...
This isn't one of those times. This isn't a blur. White noise. Intolerable. This is... nothing like that. No quantum ooze.
Sherlock takes a step. The balance does not shift. He does not wake. It does not end. On the contrary, he suspects it's only begun.
First-Person Sample: Some of you seem to be under the wholly mistaken impression that theft of your petty belongings constitutes a crime worthy not only of an in-depth investigation but also of my time and attention.
I do not for a moment regret to inform you that it is not.
From this day forward the next person who consults me regarding this or any of a frighteningly wide set of utterly frivolous complaints will be systematically ignored, except perhaps under the condition that they provide me with some form of incontrovertible proof that their lives are, in fact, in danger.
In the case of repeat offenders I cannot guarantee a response even under such circumstances.
-SH
DW username: vvvvv
E-Mail: easypeasyeasypeasy@gmail.com
IM: hodudududuh (AIM)
Other Characters: N/A
Character Name: Sherlock Holmes
Series: BBC's Sherlock
Timeline: End of 2x03 – The Reichenbach Fall.
Canon Resource Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Sherlock_episodes
Character Background: Sherlock's early life is obscure; hardly mentioned in canon. The earliest solid information we have on him is his initial appearance in the series. At this point he has already established himself as a consulting detective, a career he invented and by all indications built from the ground up largely of his own accord. In the first episode we see also the inception of his friendship with John Watson, which serves in a way as the driving point of the events of the series as a whole.
Through this relationship, even in its budding stages, we begin to learn more about Holmes himself. There are hints of past drug use (likely cocaine, drawing from the original Holmes canon), hints of trouble with the law which seem to have sparked his association with Greg Lestrade, the Detective-Inspector with whom Sherlock works most closely and with whom he appears to share a relationship which, though not quite friendship at the start, is at least one of mutual respect – after a fashion.
The first episode of the series also marks the opening act of another sort of relationship: it is at the end of the first of his cases to which the audience is privy that Sherlock first encounters hints of his greatest enemy, James Moriarty, consulting criminal. As the series progresses, the two begin to orbit one another, their circumlocutions slowly deteriorating until a collision is inevitable. And, indeed, they do meet – Sherlock's inquiries into Moriarty's crime syndicate begin to spark the latter's interest, which eventually evolves into a dark fascination.
It is their initial meeting, sparked by a series of puzzles culminating ultimately in the capture of John Watson, that also marks a point of transformation in Sherlock's relationship with John. When his friend nearly dies, Sherlock finds himself in the uncomfortable (though perhaps not wholly unfamiliar) position of caring deeply enough for another human being that their well-being begins to outweigh his own. John's brush with death seems to affect him far more than his own – something Moriarty clearly anticipated, thus his kidnapping of John in the first place.
In the second series, Sherlock's career begins to flourish. John has been blogging their cases; as his blog gains popularity, so does Sherlock, and with that fame comes more cases – but also more risk. Having a name means that Sherlock can be manipulated, and having a name also means that that name can be ruined. This is the theme that drives this series. In the first episode, Sherlock's fame draws the attention of both the royal family and of Irene Adler, who seeks to outdo him. In the second episode, his fame both aids and hinders his investigations. Finally, in the penultimate episode, it is his downfall.
Moriarty makes his return, and wields the power of fame and of press to destroy Sherlock's reputation utterly, and his life along with it. His final act is to force Sherlock to commit suicide, thereby destroying any chance of his name being cleared. However, at the end of the episode, true to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's canon, Sherlock is seen having survived, having faked his own death through means as yet unknown.
Abilities/Special Powers: For the most part Sherlock is a completely normal human being. What powers he does have lie in his abilities of observation and deduction, by which he can work out in intimate detail aspects of the people around him and chains of events which occurred in his surroundings. His abilities come with a cost – remarkable though he may be, his genius does not help him better understand those around him, no matter how well he can read them. He is lacking in empathy and has difficulty understanding most people. They have difficulty understanding him, in turn, which contributes to his profound isolation. His abilities also make him suffer – it is likely he experiences some degree of sensory processing disorder, which both allows him to do what he does and leads to his being easily overwhelmed by ephemera and stimuli which most people can discount, thus his constant desire for work and mental stimulation.
Aside from his deductive abilities, Sherlock is also an accomplished chemist and a passably talented violinist.
Third-Person Sample: Like this Sherlock could be anyone. Gangly secondary school boy, drug addict, graffito, shop clerk, vagrant, book seller. Nobody. That's the secret, to be nobody, to be unremarkable, not to cover oneself with complex disguises but to walk like this, shoulders slumped and the worn soles of ratty sneakers scraping on the ground, just like thousands of other sneakers off the same assembly line do over thousands of stretches of floor elsewhere.
Like this he is anyone, unanchored, no longer tied to the familiar sightscenttouchsoundstastes of 221B Baker Street, which isn't his anymore. There's no more scent of tea Mrs. Hudson's perfume stain on the wallpaper by the floorboards (coffee, previous tenants) John's shape pressed into his chair even when he's not sitting in it, like a ghost, like it remembers; third step up creaks glassware in the kitchen heads in the 'fridge scent of his own shampoo on the pillow on the sofa but not the pillows on his bed and the shower is always so touchy–
None of that is his anymore. But when he imagines it, when he lets himself, he imagines that they'd let him back without a word, let him shrug back into his life like into his coat, like he'd never left it, and some night as though sharing the same thought he and John might wordlessly rise from their chairs by the fireplace and go out into the city, take a prybar to Sherlock's tombstone until his name is as indecipherable as he is now.
As indecipherable as this is now. This is not home. This is further from home than he ever imagined himself going. Perhaps he really is dead. Perhaps he's been drugged – again, yet again.
There are times, awful times, in which the entire world condenses itself into nothing more than a stretch of days, a timespan which Sherlock wishes could be blissfully indeterminate but never is, not without needles. Time which passes in achingly, infuriatingly precise intervals, ticking by in moments marked by stimuli sundry and useless, deductions not nonsensical but nonetheless inane, information only worth deleting. Never anything that means something, never anything which stands out from size eight shoes and the scuff marks on the floor of the flat from where its previous occupants moved their ugly furniture about – sofa, something big and boxy, hideous, rug was there, two chairs too close to the scorch marks near the fireplace – sudden impression of the scent of smoke which isn't usually nostalgic, just sense-memory, just there, which is usually the problem, but now...
This isn't one of those times. This isn't a blur. White noise. Intolerable. This is... nothing like that. No quantum ooze.
Sherlock takes a step. The balance does not shift. He does not wake. It does not end. On the contrary, he suspects it's only begun.
First-Person Sample: Some of you seem to be under the wholly mistaken impression that theft of your petty belongings constitutes a crime worthy not only of an in-depth investigation but also of my time and attention.
I do not for a moment regret to inform you that it is not.
From this day forward the next person who consults me regarding this or any of a frighteningly wide set of utterly frivolous complaints will be systematically ignored, except perhaps under the condition that they provide me with some form of incontrovertible proof that their lives are, in fact, in danger.
In the case of repeat offenders I cannot guarantee a response even under such circumstances.
-SH