Sherlock (BBC) Fanfiction: Art of the Reasoner [epilogue]
Art of the Reasoner.
Summary: A world in which Sherlock is an artist, not a detective. Though that doesn’t mean he can’t help solve crimes. AU.
[ chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight ]
A/N: An epilogue is a short piece set in the future from the last chapter of the story. And look how far into the future I set mine... :D
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[Excerpt from: Wilson, J., (ed.), 3011, ‘The Greatest Artistic Influences’, Thames & Hudson, London Publications, England.]
Chapter Seven: Sherlock Holmes - 21st century artist and man of mystery.
Though historians are well aware that Sherlock Holmes had indeed painted and drawn many thousands of works over his lifetime, only a scant hundred and twenty-eight have survived to the new millennia.
He was a revolutionary artist, inspiring the likes of DeMarco (see chapter nine) and Challency (see chapter eleven). Holmes’ early sketches of dark skyscrapers are rumoured to have been what the infamous architect Achill Pelosi used to create the Truscune Tower, one of the greatest English landmarks since the Big Ben. The royal family owns twelve pieces in a private collection, which experts estimate to be worth a close £14.5million in total.
Yet this is not about Holmes’ art. What we want to know is about Sherlock Holmes, the man.
Not much is known about Holmes’ personal life-at least, not from his perspective. What we do know is that Holmes loathed writing about himself, avoiding it when possible. Strangely enough, there are many examples of his handwriting since his art’s distinguishing feature is the torrent of observant notes that outline the object of focus. While interesting to show how his brilliant mind works, it is hardly helpful in exploring the man himself.
For an unknown reason, no self-portraits exist of Holmes. Holmes has taken six photos with himself as the focus, but no paintings or drawings; it is an odd note of an artist claimed to have copied anything and everything he saw that he felt was of interest.
He once had maintained a website on the “Internet” (an early rudimentary version of Cybernet)-The Art of the Reasoner-which hosted images of roughly thirty-five percent of his work, but it was taken down in his lifetime and only floating dregs remain in cyberspace as hollow evidence that it existed in the first place (see Appendix 7a).
Due to an unknown complication, historians have had trouble locating birth and death records, not to mention details about his occupation (vaguely referenced as a sketch artist, but several sources contradict that; some claiming detective, others a mad scientist). A few speculate that the great flood of 2073 led to the destruction of such records, but there are thoughts that they had been removed long before that.
All that is known is Holmes’ family is the bare basics: he had a brother, Mycroft Holmes, who held a minor position in the British government, a father called Siger Holmes who died of natural causes and a mother who committed suicide. Any other personal details are all but lost to the trials of time.
In fact, a major reason why Sherlock Holmes’ life is known at all is thanks to the written works of Doctor John Watson (for further reading, A Study in Pink is one of the most comprehensive of the Watson volumes). He is hailed as Holmes’ closest friend, and there are some who believe they might have been lovers at some point in their relationship.
The texts were originally in ‘blogger’ format (outdated online-version of diary entries) before publication and even the novels are not extremely detailed. However, they include pictures of long lost works-one of the more studied pieces being Semtex and Chlorine (see Appendix 7b)-and the stories behind some of the pieces.
Several psychologists have tried to diagnose Holmes’ from Watson’s recounts because it is well accepted that Holmes’ flavour of genius had most definitely come at a cost. From what we have read, Holmes’ had the strangest infatuation with dead bodies, regularly bringing parts home to study. He has been likened to Leonardo DaVinci in that respect; even in his time, there are references to colleagues calling him that. It is mentioned in several documents Holmes’ lack of respecting social conventions and his disregard of regulations.
Yet, regardless of being self-diagnosed as a high-functioning sociopath, psychologists are wary of confirming that due to Watson’s kind regard of Holmes having some sense of responsibility and care. There are no records of Holmes’ violin music compositions, but a short anecdote Watson tells speaks of Holmes writing him a lullaby when nightmares of his involvement in the Afghanistan War prevented him from sleeping.
From there, many have read between the lines and fully believe that Holmes and Watson were in a committed relationship with varying levels of intimacy. The more conservative argue it was friendship, citing he was heterosexual from the Adler Pages (see Appendix 7c), or declaring he was asexual, which is a more likely argument accepted by most historians.
However, Semtex and Chlorine, along with several other works feature John Watson in a very unique light that some care to think of as love.
Another such example would be Chinese Fireflies (see Appendix 7d) which is considered a more telling piece; Watson is shown covered in blood and surrounded by the lights of several fires-but what holds controversy with the piece is the writing surrounding Watson. The writing itself is not strange, but it is painted with a dark, flaky red paint, which, upon further testing, has shown signs of human DNA. The best explanation is also the strangest: Holmes’ used his blood to write the bordering notations.
Even the widely debated Siger Sketch (see Appendix 7e), a piece believed to be of himself with his father at the original National Gallery (though the lack of signature holds with it no confirmation), does not seem to hold the sentiment of Chinese Fireflies. Some historians claim it is merely a development of style - however, since the dates of both pieces are separated by only several years.
The only undeniable thing from all this chaos of lost facts is that Watson and Holmes were incredibly close. In Phonebook (see Appendix 7f), arguably Holmes’ most colourful and most well known surviving works, it looks almost as if everyone he knew was painted there in splashes of colour. Notice how the background is teaming with a crowd of various shades of the rainbow and at the forefront are several people - John Watson, in shining gold, as the most prominent figure of them all.
Second to the limelight is Mycroft Holmes in brilliant red, the infamous brother who has three portraits of varying quality created by Sherlock Holmes. Some say that the clear placement of Watson before family is significant. Normally the writing would have some evidence of whether or not this was true, but all the writing in this case is just numbers upon numbers.
Phonebook is also where the connections of Holmes’ possible involvement with the police were made. In blue is Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, if Watson’s recounts are anything to go by. Police records do confirm such a man existed around Holmes’ time, though proof that they had contact is yet to be shown in any context other than Watson’s memoirs.
Holmes’ landlady (name is widely debated to be Mrs. Hudson or Mrs. Turner) is next in a faded, unassuming yellow. Her presence is one of the more confusing sights, especially when he painted his parents much further back in black and white, hand in hand with faces blurred, as if smudged away as a mild afterthought.
Finally, the most infamous figure of them all is almost glowing in the corner. The man is painted in lime green with a wicked face, like that of a lizard and a smile that seems more akin to a leer. Jim Moriarty.
Infamous though strangely anonymous. No one has ever heard of any other records of the man in any format. Yet anyone who has studied Sherlock Holmes knows the name from Watson’s chilling final chapter in the memoirs published posthumously:
“Jim Moriarty killed Sherlock.
He did it. I can’t believe it.
After the anger and the shock, I felt only hollowness.
He should have killed me, too.
I’ll kill him instead.
Sherlock, that bastard. How could he do that to me?
The waterfalls were a lie.”
This is the only direct mention of Holmes’ death, which only stirs the fires of controversy surrounding it. Almost all readers are puzzled by the erratic nature of the last few lines, but if thought of as written over a stretched out period of time (instead of written in one sitting), the meaning is clearer. “The waterfalls” is a reference to [...]
To read more, buy this text at your local bookstore or order online as an eBook.
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A/N: HAHAHA, I am such a tease. There is so much I could have written, but I kind of like ending it here. Anyone want to actually paint Chinese Fireflies or Phonebook? I’d give you my first born. Someone painted Chinese Fireflies, holy crap! Someone else painted Phonebook! Another fabulous person also created individual portraits of Moriarty, John, Lestrade, and Molly! Go send them all a ton of love! :D
Yep, that’s The End, folks, so I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ride! This is the longest completed fic I've ever written. Wow.
Afterthought: Wait, actually, if you thought there was a missing scene and you want me to write it, just drop a comment. No promises about it, but let's see what comment!fic spawns from this. :D