Alice's Antics and Adventures

mymindtardis: Gay Gypsy Bar Mitzvah: I am a scientistdoctorbee: This is how I identify myself,...

Sun, 27 May 2012 15:04:27 -0400

Gay Gypsy Bar Mitzvah: I am a scientist
doctorbee:

This is how I identify myself, above all other things. There are a lot of terms I identify with (things like feminist or atheist). But none of those touch my identity as a scientist.

I study science because I am a scientist. It isn’t the other way around. There are a lot of…

My Memory Palace: Disequilibrium Chapter 3

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 18:28:26 -0400

My Memory Palace: Disequilibrium Chapter 3:

mymindtardis:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“What do you think?”
“Moran, again,” Sherlock replied, scanning the room. Irene Adler stood in the furthest corner of the room, just observing, while staying as far out of the way as she could.
The hotel room was basic, revealing very little about its late inhabitant. At…

Reblogging because I’m really proud of this chapter.

(OOC: This is why the blog hasn't been updated.)Disequilibrium Chapter 3

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 13:54:07 -0400

mymindtardis:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“What do you think?”
“Moran, again,” Sherlock replied, scanning the room. Irene Adler stood in the furthest corner of the room, just observing, while staying as far out of the way as she could.
The hotel room was basic, revealing very little about its late inhabitant. At least, it seemed that way to Irene. Sherlock disagreed, and had already identified that the victim had two daughters, both under the age of five, a large pedigree cat, and that the man had recently been to Brazil. He also noticed that the bullet had exited the body and had been subsequently collected. The entrance and exit wounds had been carefully tampered so as not to reveal anything about the bullet without an autopsy, which obviously wasn’t available to Sherlock.
As Sherlock examined the victims hands, Irene asked him what he was looking for.
“Signs of a struggle. There aren’t any. No bruises, no skin under the nails, nothing. However, he was conscious, to an extent, when he was shot. He must have been drugged, and recently, probably with a paralytic, such as Mivacurium Chloride, the same as the other victims. He’s yet to make a mistake. We need to go before Scotland Yard gets here.”

Twenty minutes later, both Irene and Sherlock were shedding the protective clothing that stopped them leaving any trace at the crime scene; as both of them were supposed to be dead, it would raise far too many questions. Irene’s current landlord wasn’t too bothered about who they were, as long as the money came through. Sherlock was frowning ever so slightly.
“Where were you yesterday?” Irene asked.
“In the park, admiring the scenery,” Sherlock replied calmly, sitting down on the cream sofa.
“Sherlock Holmes, admiring the scenery? Was the world ending?” Sherlock gave Irene a look telling her not to be so ridiculous. Irene’s face softened with understanding as she comprehended what the real reason was. Sherlock turned away from her, looking out the window, unwilling to talk about it. “How is he?” she asked regardless.
“Fine. He’s met a woman who has a daughter. They’re engaged. He has moved on, and probably wouldn’t appreciate me walking back into his life, opening old wounds.”
Irene had no reply to that. Silently, they both watched the postman park his car outside and deliver post to their landlord.

When the final bell rang, Alice packed her bag slowly, hovering around at the back of the class as everyone else hurried off to their hectic social lives. Alice’s only plans for the evening were homework and a Torchwood marathon. She was trying to remember which bus would be easiest for her to catch when she got a text. The number was blocked, and the text asked “Would you like a game of chess?” Alice frowned in confusion. She did play chess, and was very good, but never professionally, and very few of her friends enjoyed the game.
“Who is this?”

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I spoke to Dad yesterday. About Sherlock Holmes.

Thu, 05 Apr 2012 12:16:39 -0400

I don’t want to say too much, but this guy sounds… odd. Amusingly odd. The kind of person who can’t be real. Yet he was.

~~John loved him. I don’t think he knows it, but he did. Maybe he still does. Not in a romantic way, I think, but as a brother.~~

Okay, off to school.

EDIT: I just noticed I called John Dad. Huh. It kinda fits. Better than father, or daddy. Right, now I really do have to go. Bye!

I googled Sherlock Holmes.

Mon, 02 Apr 2012 15:38:04 -0400

I feel awful. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, that I’d wait for John to tell me, and I feel shitty about it, and I only clicked on one link before shutting it down.

It said something pretty interesting. And now I’m doubly confused.

“Richard Brook never existed” claims co-actor

Six months after the infamous Sherlock Holmes committed suicide and Richard Brook, an actor hired by Holmes to act as his ‘archnemesis’, vanished, an anonymous actor claims that Richard Brook never existed.

Sherlock Holmes was a famous detective who became known through the blog of his colleague, John Watson. However, potential evidence came to light that Holmes had hired an actor named Richard Brook to perform as his master villain, and planted most of the evidence himself. It was also suggested that Holmes had in fact committed the crimes, and by “solving” them he framed otherwise innocent victims. Just before he was arrested, Holmes escaped, threatening the police with a gun. He later committed suicide.

An actor who wishes to remain anonymous recently contacted The Daily Mail to bring new evidence to light.

“I worked on several of the shows that Brook claimed to be a part of, but I never met him, and I knew the entire cast,” he informs The Daily Mail, “and he can’t have won the award he said he did, as that year I won it.”

Several investigators searched through the files and discovered that multiple systems had been hacked, and that Richard Brook was never an actor, if he existed at all.

So, where does this leave us? Was Sherlock Holmes a victim? Or the perpetrator? Was Richard Brook or James Moriarty fake? What do you think?

I don’t know what to think, now. This is why so many people treat John badly, or pity him. They think he was tricked. ero’[irgvo’[i I don’t know what to think. This feels like a plot twist that would appear in Doctor Who, or something, not something that happens in real life, would it? Oh god, poor John. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to believe, either.

I’m still kinda confused. Maybe I should talk to John. I want to, but I don’t want to upset him.

Huh. I’ll figure it out, and get back to everyone.

I feel awful about searching Sherlock Holmes. I wish I hadn’t, now.

Gah, mum’s calling me down ast timto help with cooking. She clearly doesn’t remember what happened le I cooked. ~~I may or may not have managed to burn water.~~

Packed. Bye 221B.

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 14:42:19 -0400

That was… dramatic. Geez.

This man John used to stay with… He owned a skull. And a lot of other weird stuff. But when we were packing it, I stuck my hand into this bag of stuff, and pulled out a skull. I have NEVER jumped higher in my life. Seriously. Who owns those things?

John and his landlady, they laughed at me - fair enough, I’d have laughed too if it was anyone else - and then they stopped. John’s limp became so much worse suddenly, and this awful shadow fell over his face, like the life had been sucked out of him. He didn’t look this bad when I first met him, and he looked shit then.

This man… Sherlock Holmes, I think his name was. John really, really cared about him.

Mrs. Hudson was pretty shocked too. I really want to know about this man, but I’ll wait until John’s ready

John’s keeping the skull. Not sure mum’ll be please. In fact, I’m not too sure it’s healthy for him.

Oh, there was also this weird beggar. He wasn’t actually begging. I don’t know why, but he didn’t seem like the right kind of guy. When he spoke to me, he sounded really educated, real clever. He had these funky eyes. They seemed green at first, but up close they seemed blue with specks of gold and yellow and grey.

I don’t know how people write pages and pages of this stuff, I’ve run out of stuff to say.

I’m going to read these books I adopted from Sherlock Holmes’ collection; the ones John was going to throw away.

TTYL Nonexistant followers!

Mum's chosen her dress.

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 05:09:57 -0400

It’s soooooo pretty.

Seriously. She looks pretty good. It’s not entirely white, a bit of a break from tradition. It’s cream, with red and gold patterns. Seriously, John’s not gonna know what hit him.

Which reminds me, I haven’t seen any plans for my bridemaid’s dress. Am I supposed to sort that out? :/

I kinda hope not. I wouldn’t know where to start.

Dad’s moving in to our place today. Just off to help him

So...Hi!

Sun, 25 Mar 2012 11:18:12 -0400

My name’s Alice Morstan. And this is my blog.

Yeah.

I should talk about me, shouldn’t I?

I’m fifteen, bit of a nerd, interested in EVERYTHING.

Seriously.

My mum’s 35 (Don’t tell her I told you), and in a relationship with Doctor John. He’s pretty cool, but he has a pretty bad limp and a really nasty scar on his shoulder. Used to be in the army, but now he works at St Barts.

Mum’s an accountant. She’s really cool for a mum.

Me? I’m boring, run of the mill. Just your average teenager. I like Doctor Who, NCIS, chess, science-y stuff, reading (fiction and non fiction) and I’m somewhat arty. Not very good, not like some people on here.

John used to run a blog. He stopped writing it after his flatmate died. Then again, not entirely sure I want to know. He doesn’t like talking about it and I don’t ask. It’d be kind of rude for me to go looking for it.