May. 20th, 2011

falling_voices: (we will never forget)
Of a very strange, slanted sort. Somewhat happy, and somewhat ruining my life. 

So I ran into this over on the Sherlock ficmeme.

And I. I can't write a Sherlock/To Say Nothing Of The Dog crossover. I just can't. It would be wonderful, and it would fit maddeningly well — the jet-lag and the history, Victorian London and stray, meaningful cats — it would mean tweaking the timeline around (forty years forward, what is that), and I could probably make it understandable enough to someone who hasn't read the book, considering. But. I just. 

/BRAIN HAS IMPLODED.

In other news, Edward Hardwicke is dead. I can only hope that, if there's any kind of afterlife somewhere, he's currently having tea and buttered crumpets with Jeremy Brett and rekindling their friendship.

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December 2011

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