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New fanfic on Sherlock BBC. AU!!! No summary so far. It's about music, show business and a new life after a disaster. Sherlock isn't there yet, but he will be soon.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/341514125-fanfics-about-sherlock-bbc
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47086126
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
Sally Donovan kicked a tree several times in the backyard of the Scotland Garden recording studio, accompanied by a powerful scolding. Philip Anderson watched this process with interest.
"Your linguistic knowledge is amazing in its breadth and depth," he said, "but can you explain what happened?"
"This freak won't give me his new song!" Sally growled, turning to Anderson.
"Oh." Anderson nodded as if Sally was a small child and offered him a cake she had made of mud. "I wouldn't worry. If you take this song, you will get into his media scandal."
"I don't give a damn!" Sally went to the service gate. "This song will be on an equal footing with "Yesterday"! If I get this thing, I will become immortal! And the scandal in the media... This is good advertising. And also free."
Anderson followed her.
"They accused him of sexism, homophobia and abusive behavior. This ad will kill your career."
"They have accused him. Him! And they will say about me that this is compensation." Sally put her key card to the lock on the gate and went out into the street. Anderson slipped after her.
"The only person who could benefit from this is Janine Hawkins, and she's skimmed all the cream. Rumor has it that the interview fees were enough for her to buy a cottage by the sea. And even left the money for its reconstruction."
"Kitty Riley and Richard Brook also sued him for intimidation and harassment," Sally added indifferently.
"And that is all!" Anderson exclaimed. "Even Tom-Boy's claim was rejected by the court. Both Riley and Brook are unlikely to win the trial, because this psychopath, in principle, is not capable of wanting someone, which means they are lying. But the trail will remain. And the psychopath will forever become an outcast everywhere. And if those two make some money doing interviews, but you..."
"I'm not talking about the courts, but about the song!" Sally cut him off. "It's a masterpiece! And no one will care who composed it, because he will not sing it!"
Anderson looked at Sally with doubt. She continued to rage, "He wants to give a song to Bill Wiggins! To this smelly, dope-mad shit!"
"He won't do it," Anderson said comfortingly. "He himself is a done junkie, but he rushes with his songs like a chicken with an egg. He wants the single to get on the charts. To do this, the performer must work hard. And Billy did pipe way to such an extent that even Lestrade, with his endless patience and ability to keep drug addicts on a short leash, refused to arrange concerts for Wiggins."
"This freak said I don't know how to sing!" yelled Sally in such a way that she frightened the urban fox, accustomed to everything. "I have a diploma from the conservatory, and he was thrown out of the third year of the Department of Chemistry and Technology at an ordinary university!"
"Lennon got kicked out of college, too," Anderson said comfortingly. "And Harrison and Starr didn't even go to A levels."
"Anderson, don't talk out loud," Sally advised with venomous benevolence. "You lower the IQ of the whole street."
She got into her car and drove away. Anderson stood for a while, thinking about what he had heard, and returned to the studio. The local canteen was full of people around the clock, and you could always collect gossip about even the most secret projects.
They have already talked about the song by Sherlock Holmes. And, to Anderson's surprise, there were many who wanted to take the risk by taking one. Anderson himself didn't even have a shadow of a chance to get a novelty — the damn psychopath hated him — but if you listen to this work... Or at least look at the notes and lyrics… Anderson could not enter the conservatory after the master's degree in the college of arts, but his college was not the last in the ranking. Anderson knew how to memorize quickly from a sheet perfectly, and he was very good at arranging.
Alas, the idea didn't work. The copyright for the song was done by Mrs. Turner, which meant an instant loss in court, no amount of music arrangements and lyrics amendments would help.
However, he wanted to satisfy a simple curiosity: what the hell did a psychopath create? As annoying as it was for Anderson to admit it, songs from Sherlock Holmes have always been a shot in the bull's-eye.
What happiness for everyone that this psychopath himself can no longer sing! Too much magic in the voice, too much artistry, too much charisma... And he knows how to see the secrets of people too well. There is no fair competition! The swindler took too much from God. But he paid for it because now he can barely speak. However, unfortunately, he continues to write songs. More precisely, he stubbornly distributes his work to any trash instead of helping to prove himself really worthy!
***
John Watson found a new psychotherapist for the orphanage. Sholto knew the man was capable of a lot, but in order to...
People began to ask Watson after the concert about what was most needed for the shelter. And Watson said: 'A psychotherapist who really knows his job. I understand that not a single qualified specialist will go to work in ordinary free medicine. They all work either for big money in their own offices or save the world at the Doctors Without Borders. But what if there are those among the rescuers who can no longer ride the missions? Working in our shelter will be just as important as a disaster site.'
And soon Eurus Holmes appeared in the shelter — a real gift of fate. This lady knew exactly what to do. Sholto himself did not notice how he voiced his main trouble to her: he was constantly proving to the world that he was not as worthless as his father thought. And the senseless, accidental death of newcomers, whom he was supposed to accustom to real combat, only reinforced the children's pain.
And Eurus Holmes was the first who managed to say 'Happenstances really happen accidentally, even if they are terrible' in such a way that Sholto began to understand and accept this.
With the rest of the inhabitants of the shelter, she also found a common language, and Sholto saw that Eurus could really help.
But there were some things that even she couldn't do. John Watson categorically did not want to sing anymore. 'I don't like being the center of attention,' and that was the end of all the talk.
And that's even though Watson never suffered from shyness or excessive modesty, to rise to the rank of Captain with such vices is impossible. And even more so not to survive in Afghanistan.
Leadership skills? As much as you want. If a critical situation arises, John Watson will always know who should do what and, more importantly, how to make anyone and everyone do what needs to be done.
So why is he burying talent in the ground?
But if Watson has decided something, no one can beat his stubbornness. Sholto muttered a curse. And he took the estimate from the folder. Emotions are emotions, and simulators cost money. He got a government subsidy without any problems but there are many shelters, and the situation in his institution is not critical, so Sholto was put at the end of the line.
And now he needs to decide what needs to be bought with the money of philanthropists, and what can be postponed until a subsidy.
There was a knock on the office door.
"Come in," Sholto said.
This turned out to be his cousin, a part-time accountant of the shelter.
"Look at it." She showed him an article in an economics magazine. "A very efficient light-wind generator. The shelter will save a lot of money on the refusal of the main electricity and gas. And this is for many years!"
"Yes," Sholto nodded. "This is a purchase with a perspective. And these are the funds that will go to the restoration of people. But where to get the money to buy it?! I could hardly scrape money together to bring the annex to meet the health regulations for a rehab room and buy the first simulator."
"Watson will not refuse the concert if it is for such important things. I have found a novice but very capable folk-rock band. They work in the old style, the late 1960s and early 1970s. It was a time when the fattest wallets were young and wanted to do good. And Watson showed himself perfectly exactly in this particular style. Rich old wrecks will gladly remember youth and the band will be happy to promote themselves through charity because all Sussex media will talk about the concert. Even if Watson is not able to pull out the entire concert as a whole, the group will do at least half of the work."
"And we must hurry before the main sponsors completely forget the impression of his song," Sholto said.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/341514125-fanfics-about-sherlock-bbc
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47086126
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
Sally Donovan kicked a tree several times in the backyard of the Scotland Garden recording studio, accompanied by a powerful scolding. Philip Anderson watched this process with interest.
"Your linguistic knowledge is amazing in its breadth and depth," he said, "but can you explain what happened?"
"This freak won't give me his new song!" Sally growled, turning to Anderson.
"Oh." Anderson nodded as if Sally was a small child and offered him a cake she had made of mud. "I wouldn't worry. If you take this song, you will get into his media scandal."
"I don't give a damn!" Sally went to the service gate. "This song will be on an equal footing with "Yesterday"! If I get this thing, I will become immortal! And the scandal in the media... This is good advertising. And also free."
Anderson followed her.
"They accused him of sexism, homophobia and abusive behavior. This ad will kill your career."
"They have accused him. Him! And they will say about me that this is compensation." Sally put her key card to the lock on the gate and went out into the street. Anderson slipped after her.
"The only person who could benefit from this is Janine Hawkins, and she's skimmed all the cream. Rumor has it that the interview fees were enough for her to buy a cottage by the sea. And even left the money for its reconstruction."
"Kitty Riley and Richard Brook also sued him for intimidation and harassment," Sally added indifferently.
"And that is all!" Anderson exclaimed. "Even Tom-Boy's claim was rejected by the court. Both Riley and Brook are unlikely to win the trial, because this psychopath, in principle, is not capable of wanting someone, which means they are lying. But the trail will remain. And the psychopath will forever become an outcast everywhere. And if those two make some money doing interviews, but you..."
"I'm not talking about the courts, but about the song!" Sally cut him off. "It's a masterpiece! And no one will care who composed it, because he will not sing it!"
Anderson looked at Sally with doubt. She continued to rage, "He wants to give a song to Bill Wiggins! To this smelly, dope-mad shit!"
"He won't do it," Anderson said comfortingly. "He himself is a done junkie, but he rushes with his songs like a chicken with an egg. He wants the single to get on the charts. To do this, the performer must work hard. And Billy did pipe way to such an extent that even Lestrade, with his endless patience and ability to keep drug addicts on a short leash, refused to arrange concerts for Wiggins."
"This freak said I don't know how to sing!" yelled Sally in such a way that she frightened the urban fox, accustomed to everything. "I have a diploma from the conservatory, and he was thrown out of the third year of the Department of Chemistry and Technology at an ordinary university!"
"Lennon got kicked out of college, too," Anderson said comfortingly. "And Harrison and Starr didn't even go to A levels."
"Anderson, don't talk out loud," Sally advised with venomous benevolence. "You lower the IQ of the whole street."
She got into her car and drove away. Anderson stood for a while, thinking about what he had heard, and returned to the studio. The local canteen was full of people around the clock, and you could always collect gossip about even the most secret projects.
They have already talked about the song by Sherlock Holmes. And, to Anderson's surprise, there were many who wanted to take the risk by taking one. Anderson himself didn't even have a shadow of a chance to get a novelty — the damn psychopath hated him — but if you listen to this work... Or at least look at the notes and lyrics… Anderson could not enter the conservatory after the master's degree in the college of arts, but his college was not the last in the ranking. Anderson knew how to memorize quickly from a sheet perfectly, and he was very good at arranging.
Alas, the idea didn't work. The copyright for the song was done by Mrs. Turner, which meant an instant loss in court, no amount of music arrangements and lyrics amendments would help.
However, he wanted to satisfy a simple curiosity: what the hell did a psychopath create? As annoying as it was for Anderson to admit it, songs from Sherlock Holmes have always been a shot in the bull's-eye.
What happiness for everyone that this psychopath himself can no longer sing! Too much magic in the voice, too much artistry, too much charisma... And he knows how to see the secrets of people too well. There is no fair competition! The swindler took too much from God. But he paid for it because now he can barely speak. However, unfortunately, he continues to write songs. More precisely, he stubbornly distributes his work to any trash instead of helping to prove himself really worthy!
***
John Watson found a new psychotherapist for the orphanage. Sholto knew the man was capable of a lot, but in order to...
People began to ask Watson after the concert about what was most needed for the shelter. And Watson said: 'A psychotherapist who really knows his job. I understand that not a single qualified specialist will go to work in ordinary free medicine. They all work either for big money in their own offices or save the world at the Doctors Without Borders. But what if there are those among the rescuers who can no longer ride the missions? Working in our shelter will be just as important as a disaster site.'
And soon Eurus Holmes appeared in the shelter — a real gift of fate. This lady knew exactly what to do. Sholto himself did not notice how he voiced his main trouble to her: he was constantly proving to the world that he was not as worthless as his father thought. And the senseless, accidental death of newcomers, whom he was supposed to accustom to real combat, only reinforced the children's pain.
And Eurus Holmes was the first who managed to say 'Happenstances really happen accidentally, even if they are terrible' in such a way that Sholto began to understand and accept this.
With the rest of the inhabitants of the shelter, she also found a common language, and Sholto saw that Eurus could really help.
But there were some things that even she couldn't do. John Watson categorically did not want to sing anymore. 'I don't like being the center of attention,' and that was the end of all the talk.
And that's even though Watson never suffered from shyness or excessive modesty, to rise to the rank of Captain with such vices is impossible. And even more so not to survive in Afghanistan.
Leadership skills? As much as you want. If a critical situation arises, John Watson will always know who should do what and, more importantly, how to make anyone and everyone do what needs to be done.
So why is he burying talent in the ground?
But if Watson has decided something, no one can beat his stubbornness. Sholto muttered a curse. And he took the estimate from the folder. Emotions are emotions, and simulators cost money. He got a government subsidy without any problems but there are many shelters, and the situation in his institution is not critical, so Sholto was put at the end of the line.
And now he needs to decide what needs to be bought with the money of philanthropists, and what can be postponed until a subsidy.
There was a knock on the office door.
"Come in," Sholto said.
This turned out to be his cousin, a part-time accountant of the shelter.
"Look at it." She showed him an article in an economics magazine. "A very efficient light-wind generator. The shelter will save a lot of money on the refusal of the main electricity and gas. And this is for many years!"
"Yes," Sholto nodded. "This is a purchase with a perspective. And these are the funds that will go to the restoration of people. But where to get the money to buy it?! I could hardly scrape money together to bring the annex to meet the health regulations for a rehab room and buy the first simulator."
"Watson will not refuse the concert if it is for such important things. I have found a novice but very capable folk-rock band. They work in the old style, the late 1960s and early 1970s. It was a time when the fattest wallets were young and wanted to do good. And Watson showed himself perfectly exactly in this particular style. Rich old wrecks will gladly remember youth and the band will be happy to promote themselves through charity because all Sussex media will talk about the concert. Even if Watson is not able to pull out the entire concert as a whole, the group will do at least half of the work."
"And we must hurry before the main sponsors completely forget the impression of his song," Sholto said.
