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On the HolmesSlash group, Lyrical Soul wrote in the Sunday Discourse:
This week's Discourse requires you to play The Game, in which Holmes and Watson (and others in their universe) are actual persons. ... Since Holmes has an aversion to women, have you given thought to the fact that there will be no one to carry on his legacy after he's gone?
To which I responded:
Since the brain is never inherited from the father (at least in studies of rats) I think ... any children who are destined to >inherit a similar type of brain cannot be directly descended from Holmes, but would have to be from his sister, his mother's sister, his grandmother's sister, etc. I read somewhere the hypothesis that if he had a sister she may have been named Violet, because he seems to be marginally more sympathetic to girls with the name Violet. Whoever it was who came up with that idea thought Violet may have died young or been driven away from the family...
And then I later posted:
(My Eor is quite delighted with the idea of Violet Holmes and thinks she needs to have red hair. "That doesn't seem likely, sweetie. I'd imagine she'd have black hair and grey eyes like both her brothers." "But this is MY fantasy!" he replied. "Well..." I said, "She could be a half-sister. Same mother..." "She had an affair with a travelling rogue!" he supplied. And with that he faded off back into the other room to read, happy. :))
To which Yvonne responded:
My brain, just reeling from the effects of watching "Seven-per-cent
Solution" at an ungodly hour last night, replaced "travelling rogue"
with "evil maths tutor dismissed for unspecfied 'dark rumors.'"
To which Not You Stabby replied:
"My name is Violet Moriarty. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
All in all, not the sort of thing one expects to have to deal with first thing in the morning, so I doubt I was at my best. Still, a flame-haired murderess with a heart of steel was at least a change of pace.
I dove behind the settee as the first shot whined overhead to sink into the wall, and called (rather shrilly, if I'm to be totally honest) for Watson to come and assist me. He rose to the occasion admirably as always, thundering out of his bedroom and hurling the duvet out before him, blinding my assailant and then wrapping her up like an angry cat.
He pinned her to the floor, and consummate gentleman that he is, would probably have been a soft-headed fool and released her when she began to cry, if I hadn't stopped him.
"Watson, the woman tried to kill me. She may be pretty, but she has her father's proclivities."
She glared daggers up at both of us, and the expression was uncannily similar to a few I'd seen in my own mirror. Ignoring her curses and Watson's pleas for information, I lifted her hair out of the way, and found a small scar, high on the back of her neck. Where Mycroft had let her tip into the coal scuttle when I was almost too young to remember it happening at all. Feeling slightly faint, I did my best to master myself.
"Holmes?" Watson murmured. I laughed, in a way that usually only came of the needle.
"Watson, I should very much like to introduce you to my little sister."
Ask and ye shall recieve. I love the Internets, and HolmesSlash is an important part of that love. ;)
This week's Discourse requires you to play The Game, in which Holmes and Watson (and others in their universe) are actual persons. ... Since Holmes has an aversion to women, have you given thought to the fact that there will be no one to carry on his legacy after he's gone?
To which I responded:
Since the brain is never inherited from the father (at least in studies of rats) I think ... any children who are destined to >inherit a similar type of brain cannot be directly descended from Holmes, but would have to be from his sister, his mother's sister, his grandmother's sister, etc. I read somewhere the hypothesis that if he had a sister she may have been named Violet, because he seems to be marginally more sympathetic to girls with the name Violet. Whoever it was who came up with that idea thought Violet may have died young or been driven away from the family...
And then I later posted:
(My Eor is quite delighted with the idea of Violet Holmes and thinks she needs to have red hair. "That doesn't seem likely, sweetie. I'd imagine she'd have black hair and grey eyes like both her brothers." "But this is MY fantasy!" he replied. "Well..." I said, "She could be a half-sister. Same mother..." "She had an affair with a travelling rogue!" he supplied. And with that he faded off back into the other room to read, happy. :))
To which Yvonne responded:
My brain, just reeling from the effects of watching "Seven-per-cent
Solution" at an ungodly hour last night, replaced "travelling rogue"
with "evil maths tutor dismissed for unspecfied 'dark rumors.'"
To which Not You Stabby replied:
"My name is Violet Moriarty. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
All in all, not the sort of thing one expects to have to deal with first thing in the morning, so I doubt I was at my best. Still, a flame-haired murderess with a heart of steel was at least a change of pace.
I dove behind the settee as the first shot whined overhead to sink into the wall, and called (rather shrilly, if I'm to be totally honest) for Watson to come and assist me. He rose to the occasion admirably as always, thundering out of his bedroom and hurling the duvet out before him, blinding my assailant and then wrapping her up like an angry cat.
He pinned her to the floor, and consummate gentleman that he is, would probably have been a soft-headed fool and released her when she began to cry, if I hadn't stopped him.
"Watson, the woman tried to kill me. She may be pretty, but she has her father's proclivities."
She glared daggers up at both of us, and the expression was uncannily similar to a few I'd seen in my own mirror. Ignoring her curses and Watson's pleas for information, I lifted her hair out of the way, and found a small scar, high on the back of her neck. Where Mycroft had let her tip into the coal scuttle when I was almost too young to remember it happening at all. Feeling slightly faint, I did my best to master myself.
"Holmes?" Watson murmured. I laughed, in a way that usually only came of the needle.
"Watson, I should very much like to introduce you to my little sister."
Ask and ye shall recieve. I love the Internets, and HolmesSlash is an important part of that love. ;)