The Science of Deduction

I'm Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. I'm not going to go into detail about how I do what I do because chances are you wouldn't understand. If you've got a problem that you want me to solve, then contact me. Interesting cases only please. This is what I do: 1. I observe everything. 2. From what I observe, I deduce everything. 3. When I've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, must be the truth. If you need assistance, contact me and we'll discuss its potential. //This is an independent roleplay blog for BBC's Sherlock Holmes (although it's played out Wholock so far) and may contain spoilers. Magic Anons are CLOSED. Current Magic Anon: I am a sexy librarian for the next 72 hours, or until Saturday morning. //

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

This is official note of a hiatus. I am so sorry I've been MIA but things at home are a bit wobbly. I shall be back at uni in a week, at which point I will pick up Sherlock again. xxx

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

//Hello guys! If I owe you something, put it in my ask. I've been rushed off my feet for the last 3 days (anenigmaticmycroft, you know part of it) and installing things to a new laptop, BUT I will get to work now!//

[thecompanionofthestars-deactiva]

(text) At my house... NO! A shop near my house.-she sent the address and started walking to the shop to get some tea leaves-

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

He knew the place. Small. Sold good tea, if Mrs Hudson was to believed, though her idea of good - broad - and his idea of good - her tea, or John's tea - were two very different things. He shrugged, pulling on the deerhunter - he might as well. Everyone seemed to like it - and his coat and scarf, ducking out the door and hoping that someone would just think he was a Sherlock Holmes wannabe and not the real thing. He told as much to the infuriating cabbie who tried to strike up a conversation, paid the man, and then ducked into the shop with his hat over his eyes, looking for Donna.

[thecompanionofthestars-deactiva]

Sherlock

(text) Through deduction, one may infer that you’re alive and may come and entertain me. Now you’re turn to deduce this. Get your arse over here. I’m waiting

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Sherlock read the text once or twice. He wasn't used to being bossed around by anyone other than Irene. It got on his nerves but then Miss Noble was the only reason he'd been able to sleep in the weeks since he'd 'died' and he at least had something to thank her for. Having said that... he wasn't a mind reader. One more text was in need.

Over where? I deduce. I don't read minds. -SH

[littlered247]

i lurve this gif

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

John. We finally broke Mycroft. -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Slowly, darling. Because that's the only way I ever could. I'd have to take my time with you. Learn your body... every inch. With my tongue. My fingers. Memorize and deduce. And I'd tell you everything I discover as I go- every freckle, every time you shudder. Every whimper. That would be a game we'd both enjoy.

...You're hired. -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

(text) Unless there're is service in heaven, you must be alive.

Touché madam. -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Rose Tyler, I- ██████

John Watson, I- ██████ -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

(text) Sherlock. I'm bored. Entertain me?

You are remembering I'm meant to be dead...? -SH

[thelilnan]

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

helilnan:

The Initiative.

It wasn’t long after the exposé aired that past clients of Sherlock’s began coming forward with the “truth.” One by one, people who came to Sherlock for help were now condemning the man, accusing him of lies and saying it was all “too easy.” No one could be that clever.

Sherlock could.

But bit by bit the world he had built was collapsing in on itself and he wasn’t the one to catch the rubble as it came crashing down. His few supporters, his few true friends, held firm under the abuse. They were called out for their conspiracy and shunned from their communities unless they tarnish the name of the once-great detective.

John Watson stood strong. Nothing any mortal man could say would shake his faith in his best friend. (Sometimes, John felt, his only friend.) He remained quiet, stoic, and stubborn in face of harassment.

He believed in Sherlock Holmes.

Greg Lestrade, having fallen the furthest in the name of this detective, held his ground with resolve. Strip him of his title, destroy his reputation, he would not dare be swayed by his peers. Demoted, destroyed, and disgraced, he never lost faith that Sherlock was every bit of the man he claimed.

He believed in Sherlock Holmes.

Henry Knight was one of the few clients who refused interview. When hounded, he only said how much he owed Sherlock and that he wouldn’t be standing there now if it hadn’t been for the man’s brilliance. He refused further comments and locked himself away in 221c, grounded in the knowledge that however dark things get, there will be some saving light on its way.

He believed in Sherlock Holmes.

United by faith in a man who proved to be mortal, the three set out to remind the world that sometimes heros do exist.

And his name was Sherlock Holmes.

John. Is that my scarf? -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Oh, go on. Have a go. How would you do it? You solve enough crimes, just work backwards. -The Master settles back into his chair. He has no intention on leaving just yet.- All I mean by /modern/ is that you can't exactly.... oh, I don't know.... travel through time?

"First of all," Sherlock frowned somewhat. This made no sense, "I hope you don't mind but I seem to be overcome by a sudden urge to be naked, which has preemptively happened. I suspect the cosmic interference of anonymous magic." That said to his persistent so-called client, he added, "And like I'm sure I've said before. I don't take anonymous clients and though I could theoretically do the job, I will not become an accomplice to murder."

Sherlock steepled his fingers. The idea of time travel was an intriguing one. It would make murder easier, certainly. You could go back in time after you had committed the murder and provide your own alibi, admittedly at the risk of creating a paradox or in some theories of time travel, not committing the murder at all. It depended if you worked on time travel as the basis of being able to meet your past or future self, or if only one version of yourself could exist at any given time. From his one time association with the Doctor, Sherlock had always assumed it was the former, which uncomplicated matters somewhat at least.

"However as I have said, a murder is easy. One should be dedicated to any venture they undertake and a well-timed murder should be simple, to the point, and easy to back away from. The most obvious idea is to walk up to the person as though they are expecting you. Do not sneak up - announce your arrival via a doorbell, for example, and commit your murder behind the shelter of the doorframe and without alerting suspicoun before walking out. Gloves, of course, are important in this day and age, unless you have some way of destroying the murder weapon and do not touch anything beforehand. And if you have a modus operandi of sorts, then make sure you steer far away from it not to make yourself an obvious suspect."

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

M!A: FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS YOU CANNOT WEAR CLOTHING.

At least John should approve. -SH

[nogalisa24-deactivated20160302]

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

I'm not even rightly sure of a good response for this one. Any face could be the face of a killer. Literature would have you think it's always the quiet ones and this farce of an actor that JIM MORIARTY portrays was certainly the proverbial quiet one that you would not expect. However, a smile and some endearing lies does not make one innocent, nor does it even equate that they rightly exist. -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

You're no longer a sexy librarian. *waves hand* Bring on a new Magic Anon.

Anon, I shall be forever in your debt. Until someone else gives me a worse Magic Anon... -SH

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Telephobia

[onlyaconsultingdetective-blog]

Re: anenigmaticmycroft:

“Yes,” Sighed Mycroft, as if Sherlock was missing something obvious. “However, I’ve had a number of capable techs peel through every piece of computer and other media he had at his desk. It all looks sparkling clean - suspiciously so. We suspect he cloned his main drive prior to any movement or removal of files, then physically stripped out the original drive and replaced it with the identical clone. It’s part of what I am hoping you may find at his place of residence.”

There was shuffling at the other end of the line, a pause of a few moments as Mycroft moved about, perhaps to retrieve a folder or papers from another area of his office. “I doubt you’ll run into much trouble, and it’s rather near your old stomping ground. Camden, Sherlock. I’m texting you the street address right now.” Again, odd sounds, this time Mycroft’s voice becoming a bit distant as the soft tap of fingers could be heard. “You should find a key in a flower pot next to the door, and you must contact me if you have any issues … and especially if you find anything. Anything else?”

Sherlock took in the information with silent nods, gesturing with his free hand as he compartmentalised and ordered it all into his thoughts. That bit goes there, information on cloning hard drives, find it and add it to there. Might have to seek some expert help on the matter but the homeless network includes some students, one of them might have a professor I can talk to. He nodded his head a little more, thinking, doing his best not to do so out loud while he was still on the phone. A few statements - theoretically possible - Camden, how quaint - capable techs is a matter of opinion - slipped through his lips, but little more.

"Would you have me on a leash too, Mother?" At the final burst of sentences - distant. Sherlock deduced from the soft thuds behind his brother's words that his attention was elsewhere. Perhaps he was looking up the relevant information to text over (not that text messages were the more secure method of communication, but Irene had at least taught them both the value of a well-locked mobile phone). They didn't both have photographic memories or mind palaces, after all. The distraction would explain why Mycroft was not choosing his words so well in dealing with his brother - Sherlock's voice took on a briefly petulant tone. Even though he could explain it, he still bristled. "I'm being hired to find out facts, it would hardly make sense to keep them to myself."