and went on in sunlight

It is fortunate, in fact, that fanfic doesn't occupy actual physical space, because if it did the amount of it that I read would not improve the bookshelf crisis at all, in any way. Today's fanfic rec (still Sherlock) is for something that has at least partially satisfied my loathing of His Last Vow, which I still think was a terrible, scattered, ill-thought-out cobbling together of psychological inconsistency and gaping plot holes only partially redeemed by its, as always, brilliant acting and production. PlaidAdder's Sherlock fic is bloody marvellous, but particularly Law Like Love, because it explicitly sets out to fix some of the more egregious inconsistencies of that horribly-scripted episode. It also has a kick-butt Harry Watson, a fascinating reversed-time narrative frame, and an obsession with W H Auden. Highly, highly recommended. As is anything in that series, actually, but especially The Young Men Carbuncular, which is an extremely entertaining Doyle/TS Eliot pastiche which should groove the ploons of any fans of "The Waste Land". And she does a similar rescue of the Donna Noble problem in her Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover. PlaidAdder doesn't have much truck with Moffat's horrible scripting. We like her.

Because I happened to snap him perched precariously in the front window, celebrating his newly-developed ability to both exit and re-enter via it, have a random Hobbit. I cannot acquit him of being Self-Consciously Posed.



I am quoting "The Waste Land" in my subject line, because several literature degrees have to be good for something and besides, I've always cherished a certain baffled affection for the fractured suggestiveness of its images.