cumberqueen:

Sherlock co-creator Mark Gatiss says Mycroft Holmes is even more intelligent than the detective himself.

References in the original Sherlock Holmes stories suggest Sherlock’s brother does indeed possess superior powers of observation and deduction, although his sedentary nature prevents him from being an effective detective.

And Gatiss, who plays Mycroft in the series, says he’d like future episodes of the show to reveal more about the brothers’ abrasive relationship and Mycroft’s own talents.

“Why are the Holmes brothers the way they are? What are their parents like? Maybe we’ll see one day. I’d like to find a way of showing more than we have that [Mycroft] is actually even cleverer than Sherlock,” Gatiss said during a webchat with Sherlock’s US broadcaster PBS.

But he admitted it could be a long time before viewers learn more about the brothers’ enigmatic past. 

“Far better to leave things in everyone’s imaginations,” said Gatiss in response to a fan question about whether the Holmes family background was to be explained in the new series. “It’s nice to give little hints here and there but never a full answer.”

Gatiss revealed that the problem of how much information to give the audience about Mycroft and Sherlock had arisen during the making of A Study in Pink, the opening episode of the 2010 reboot. 

“We actually cut a bit from Pink which gave a bit too much away about the obvious frisson of animosity that exists between them,” the actor and co-creator said, adding: “It’s not there in the original stories. It comes entirely from Billy Wilder and Izzy Diamond’s brilliant [1970 film] The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes and Christopher Lee’s cold, disdainful Mycroft. If you haven’t seen it - do!”

Gatiss also discussed how he came to play the part himself, confirming that his Mycroft has a real-life inspiration. 

“Mycroft wasn’t in the pilot, so no [I wasn’t always planning to play him]. But when we came to rethinking and reshooting episode one it just sort of happened. I’d just auditioned to play Peter Mandelson in a TV film and we’d already discussed how reptilian and Mandelsonian we wanted Mycroft to be. We also saw a great chance to fool people into thinking I was Moriarty. And it worked!”

Source: [X]

everything-is-fandom-and:

clarri:

trippyhippiehiddlestoned:

why wasn’t Loki invited?!…..

And they all wonder why he feels the need to destroy worlds and be “evil”…

BABE

.. this genuinely made me quite sad..

I marked our glass bottles with “SH” during the experiment. Easy to pick out. They remind me of A Study in Scarlet. XD

you need this on your blog, don’t say you don’t.

It’s a glimpse, nothing more. A flash of dark hair and high cheekbones and pale eyes. And John knows it’s insane, knows it’s impossible, but it looked exactly like him.

Their eyes meet for a second, and the pair on the other side of the tinted taxi window show no signs of recognition. But not for a moment does John let himself believe it could be anyone else. He simple didn’t see him in the crowd, or did not have time to react between recognising him and the car drifting smoothly around the corner.

He must believe these things, because he must believe in who it was in that cab.

There was no-one else like him. No-one else it could have been.

It was Sherlock.

It is all John can do not to drop his bags as he races around the corner, breathing that name repeatedly under his breath. For the first time since Switzerland, he runs with no limp, he runs like he only ever did with Sherlock.

But even free from psychosomatic pain, he is not as fast as a car. He knows he will never catch it. “Sherlock… Sherlock…” he pants, even as he grinds to a halt in the middle of the road. He feels the name bubbling up inside him, becoming a shout as the car disappears.

“SHERLOCK!”

For several seconds, John just stands there, watching the point where the taxi disappeared. He is aware of people around looking at him, a car slowly pulling towards him, expecting him to move. He doesn’t care. It has just hit him, really, truly, that Sherlock Holmes is dead. He will never ride a London cab again, never look over the city with those cool, colourless eyes. No matter how hard John wishes, he will never come back.

The car behind him beeps its horn, and John limps away.

~

Sherlock turns and watches the figure, once he is sure it can no longer see his face. It runs after him, mouth forming his name over and over. As he watches, a burning desire grows, and he wants nothing more than to stop the taxi, jump out and gather the man in his arms. He never meant to hurt anyone. He never meant for this.

“You know that guy?” the cabbie asks, noticing what Sherlock is staring at. “You want me to stop for him?”

Sherlock turns around, catching the driver’s eye in the mirror. “No, it’s fine. Keep driving.”

He has whipped out his phone before he even knows what he’s doing.

Take care of him.

- SH

He has already sent the message before he taps out an afterthought.

Please.

- SH

Seconds later, his phone chimes.

Already picked him up. Have been following him since he left Baker Street.

- MH

And before he can even draw the breath to think of a reply, it seems that his brother also has more to say.

He’s crying. I don’t know what to do.

- MH

There is anger in that message. And desperation. And remorse. And most of all—there is guilt. The words blur in his vision, and with trembling fingers, he wipes the tears that have dropped on the screen of his phone.

Neither do I.

- SH

He never sends that last message.

Hate this stupid boring college 

rosetylerofstarcommand: