(I also feel the pedantic need to point out that the parts of the plot directly lifted from ASiB ended with Sherlock drugged, defeated, and in bed. For the record.)

(The rest of the plot, which suffered from some of Moffat's habit of Plot Souping things, was not part of the ACD story.)

(Yes, I have three different pedantry tags for my Tumblr entries.)

Personally, Ple I like to imagine you in a glowering fury of pedantry, scowling bitterly for hours with occasional irate gesticulations.

Yeah, that sounds like someone who came to the table looking to grind that particular axe.

Personally, Ple I like to imagine you in a glowering fury of pedantry, scowling bitterly for hours with occasional irate gesticulations.

Occasional? As you know, when I get into a pedantic rage black out, my hands fly all around and my eyebrows are all over the map. I'm very animated in my irritation.

I should work it into an exercise routine...

(I also feel the pedantic need to point out that the parts of the plot directly lifted from ASiB ended with Sherlock drugged, defeated, and in bed. For the record.)

Obviously. Wait...are people not getting this?

One of my favorite games to play with Sherlock is "canon". It's a simple game: you say, "canon" when something is lifted directly (or near enough) from the Doyle. This is one of those "other people aren't like us" things, isn't it?

Occasional? As you know, when I get into a pedantic rage black out, my hands fly all around and my eyebrows are all over the map. I'm very animated in my irritation.

I was savoring the image of you in a slow burn - perhaps in a SH fanfic involving Irene Adler at a horse race. You'd get to a passage that tangled poor Victorian research, a complete absence of any knowledge of horse anatomy, wrong-headed reading of the original text, and white-het privilege into a ghastly knot of spelling errors. Then you reach the section on Scottish history that conflated Scotch with Bourbon and your eyebrows would knit together so fiercely that your brain would lock up as sputtering noises started to erupt from you as it became impossible to prioritize what needed yelling at first.

This is what I do for fun.

One of my favorite games to play with Sherlock is "canon". It's a simple game: you say, "canon" when something is lifted directly (or near enough) from the Doyle. This is one of those "other people aren't like us" things, isn't it?

Yeah, but that's ok. Totally worth a mental wound.

I was savoring the image of you in a slow burn - perhaps in a SH fanfic involving Irene Adler at a horse race. You'd get to a passage that tangled poor Victorian research, a complete absence of any knowledge of horse anatomy, wrong-headed reading of the original text, and white-het privilege into a ghastly knot of spelling errors. Then you reach the section on Scottish history that conflated Scotch with Bourbon and your eyebrows would knit together so fiercely that your brain would lock up as sputtering noises started to erupt from you as it became impossible to prioritize what needed yelling at first.

Ahahaha. Yeah, generally, if I'm reading ACD canon stories, I'm reading stuff that I'd be ashamed to admit I'm reading. *cough* (Look, there are sections of it that line up with my collection of a certain type of Victorian and Edwardian book.)

If I'm reading BBC stories, I'm most like to fly off the handle at people who assume that a cocaine overdose is just like a heroin one. Poor drug research is my biggest irritation there.

I'm reading stuff that I'd be ashamed to admit I'm reading

t raises eyebrow Given what you admit to reading (and writing), I find this hard to believe.

a certain type of Victorian and Edwardian book.

Would the author be "Anonymous"? Would the most famous title be the nacreous byproduct of a bivalve's irritation?

Oh, there's a LOT of stuff I don't admit to reading. Or writing.