Sherlock Holmes never fell in love.
Before we get started, I’d like to note that Sherlock Holmes is the most frequently adapted fictional character in history. With version upon version, retelling after retelling, potential sequels, extra characters, secret sisters, extraterrestrial and modern day adaptations…...if you can think it up, someone has probably created a Sherlock Holmes reboot to match. And that’s not even touching on the hundreds of characters inspired by or directly based off of this famous detective. So, for the purpose of this piece, I thought it was best to add a disclaimer: These are my opinions. I’m talking about Sherlock Holmes the immortal detective, how I think he was intended to be interpreted, and the themes I see. I’m aware not every retelling fits my interpretation, but I hold the belief that the vast majority of them do.
She was poetry, the gentle whisper of sweet melodies hummed under candlelight. The gentle flickering embers of a fireplace on a cold winter's night and her skin the freshest driven snow. She was angelic - dancing in the rain, an enigma - An unspoken promise. Her hair was raven, long, soft, and free-flowing. It hung down over her face, hiding an uncompromisable beauty - that could never fade, ever glowing. Her eyes were the stars. The deepest pools grey, cold, icy - glass. Ones that could see through you.
DAKOTA’S HEART First Crush by V.K. Hubbard The alarm sounded incessantly jarring Dakota from sleep. She pushed the stop button on her phone to quiet it as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Sitting up, she ran a hand through her long, auburn hair, moving it out of her face. Tonight, was the senior prom. She glanced over at the dress, still in its plastic bag, on the back of her door. Sighing, she wished she weren’t going with Jacob. She really didn’t have a choice not to. They had been going together all through high school. It was expected. No one knew they had actually broken up right before Christmas. She sighed again getting out of bed. Oh well, she thought. I have to keep up appearances. She was also aware Jacob wasn’t happy about their situation either. Throwing on her clothes, Dakota headed down to the barn. She figured she had time to get in a quick ride on Queenie before she had to shower and go to her appointments for her hair and makeup. She was lost in her thoughts as she entered the barn. She squealed when Audrey came up behind her.
“You should have stayed at the Peabody. It’s in the heart of downtown and much closer to Beale Street,” the cab driver told him, assuming his passenger was a tourist, as they pulled into the parking lot of the Harahan.
The Bed That Broke Us
How great life can be to the unknowing, or better yet the knowing and unwilling. In the world of a mind unwilling to grasp the reality at hand, anything can be. Happiness is nothing more than the outfit chosen to wear on any said day. On this day the chosen outfit was a wife’s adult women soccer uniform. Like any other Saturday morning scrimmage, Lonnie got ready to leave her best on the field. Like any other Saturday morning scrimmage, Lonnie’s husband would arrive 30 minutes after the game started due to work. Unlike any other Saturday morning, their worlds would slowly start to unravel and happiness wouldn’t appear as easy as they had made it seem.
Ace of Hearts - Aromantic
It turns out in the end I am not, in fact, a late bloomer. It turns out I’m not a flower, but a completely different plant altogether and am, in fact, a plant that does not blossom at all – and that is totally normal.
Harlan parked the truck in the lot located about a mile from the cabin. We were in the deep valleys north of Allentown, Pennsylvania, miles away from family, friends, and the Pastor who told me to maintain “self-control.” It was Harlan’s idea to come here; I knew no one would suspect our intentions. I just wanted one weekend where I could let go and be free for once. I reassured myself that it wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t going to go to Hell.
To the Alter
Shuffle...puff...shuffle...shuffle...pop...pop...Eduardo was pacing back and forth in his room, waiting to be called to the altar. Today was the day, Roman and his wedding day. A day he never thought was going to be a reality given their upbringing in their small town. There were also the bullies, the drifting apart after high school and college, the bullies again at their high school reunion, a public embarrassment, and a nasty divroce. Everything in Eduardo’s life seemed like the odds were stacked against him and against Roman, but they prevalved and won. Won against their small town, won against the bullies, and won when Eduardo was close to losing Roman.
Staring at her wheat-colored hair as the summer sun shone golden atop her head, the beauty of her thick curvaceous form haloed by the falling horizon made me sick. I was falling ill, and this type of disease was incurable. Reaching into every crevice of my body, tearing at my nerve centers, and corrupting my brain functions. Every minute we shared together tightened my chest and made it hard to breathe, and I knew all that was waiting for me was silent and painful death.
That Summer Night, My whole existence changed. It started when I was in middle school. I knew from that moment Something wouldn’t be the same. Didn’t know what it was, but it felt like Love!
It’s a harsh summer evening when Emily gives us the news of her departure. We’re just a group of lanky teenagers sitting on the bank of the river, but the most important thing to us is each other. She prepared a going away present for all of us, something to remember her by. She gives it to me last, pushing back her wild brown curls and pressing something from her equally sweaty hand into mine; I am reminded again of why I don’t want her to leave. We don’t stay much longer after that, and everyone is a mess of sticky sweat and tears while we say goodbye for the last time to Emily. I open my hand on the way home, not wanting to see the gift when I could spend my time looking at her and find a little green gem, wrapped in wire and hung on a thick black string.
There's a line in "Still Into You" by Paramore that says *recount the first night I met your mother* that is bittersweet. This song is my jam, and it hits that serotonin release button. Plus, it fits. Danielle and I have a running joke about me being overbearing; we met on a dating site. We lived in different states. I knew we would be married the first time we exchanged messages.