76 posts
  • bodh_isattva11 2w

    Sherlock Holmes had met his match
    in a formidable adversary.
    The latter, a consigliere of cruelty,
    the former, a constable of humanity.

    The climax of such interactions,
    culminating into something woesome.
    Fighting at the brink of Reichenbach falls,
    they succumb into its bosom.

  • ziegler 64w


    What if Sherlock Holmes
    used his sagacity
    against the law ?

  • shara_emlyn 65w

    My mind wanders to a Place i Loathe - Mind Prison
    #prison #sherlock #mind #Sad #deppression

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    The rain pours down heavy,
    Sitting by the windows ,
    With cup of coffee ,
    And a book on my bosom ....
    My mind wanders
    To a place I loathe ...
    Not the place described in my book
    Not the place where I was born
    Not the place I last stayed
    Not the place listed in any maps
    Not the place which exist in physical world

    Like the mind palace of Sherlock Holmes
    Its place in my mind
    Its a place i loathe
    Filled with grim memories
    With walls of resentment for life
    With decors of animosity
    And flowers so bleak ...

    Its place full of trauma
    With the rugged edges
    It cuts me raw with every move i make
    I bleed as I trod in the narrow path
    It is caustic , corrodes my goodness
    It is my fence , it is my hell
    It is the reservoir of my wretched journey

    It is my Mind Prison...


  • sensitive_observer 73w


  • aru022 87w

    I used to live in
    "The Cupboard under the stairs, 4, Privet Drive"
    For a long time, making no noise, pretending I didn't exist,
    Then I went to Hogwarts, landing amid a war in a magical fort,
    Dumbledore's army against Voldemort,
    Had fun as the chosen one,
    Until my scar had no longer pained,
    Though my dreams now more bloodstained..

    I moved to
    "221B, Baker Street, London"
    Where I met Watson,
    And set out to on another adventure and meet Moriarty,
    He owed me a fall, after all
    While solving murders, not break-ins,
    Cause that's not our division..

    Then I shifted to House on
    "221B, Baker Street, New Jersey"
    Where I diagnosed sick people who lied, with the help of some 'idiots' in Princeton,
    But after the death of Wilson,
    I felt ostracized..

    One day I saw,
    A demon with yellow-eyes,
    Prancing in the shadows, set our lives ablaze,
    Now, with Dean and Sammy, I got work to do,
    Cause Dad's on a hunting trip, and
    He hasn't been home in a few days!

    Well, I don't deny,
    I'm guilty of having other small and big escapades,
    Of saving people, hunting things.
    And avoiding apocalypse(s) too
    People like me are addicted, and,
    That's what people DO!!!


  • ankitj 98w

    Novel Life !

    Think like Sherlock,
    Live like Moriarty !

  • simran2315 109w

    So I have been working on this piece since a week in the privilege of binge watching THE SHERLOCK HOMLES...
    And now I tried pennimg down the remarkable friendship of stubborn sherlock and compassionate john...
    Deduce 'you' on your own
    @writersnetwork @readwriteunite

    Read More

    It is what it is,
    And now I must confront this.
    YOU are my Sherlock,
    Crazy enough to bullet, his own damm wall.
    And though, this Sherlock may have, hundreds of hands helping,
    I assure to stand beside, always when you're deducing...

    Giving you the privilege, of burdening yourself,
    during your adventure, with a little helpmate,
    The exploits of you, my remarkable friend, I recall, I state...
    Though some times, in my place, the balloon stands,
    But When I'll find my Mary, You know, who's gonna be my best man.

    I owe you for bringing it out everytime ,that my limp psychosomatic, was actually in my head.
    Giving you those 2 minutes, and taadaa, my state of mind is read.
    Believing your every kind of nerve, letting a pychyopath function.
    I'll never let you lose, to all those complicate little emotions.

    I know, how thrilling for you it is,
    to solve your people's cases,
    And all though you're a freak and a weirdo, always planning a humiliating demise,
    Just a reminder Sherlock,
    I'll forever be, by your side...

    Even if you remove, the-blocking-your-kitchen-view chair of mine.
    I will keep a record of 58 and more, of your message alerts every time.

    Even with every Moriarty, stopping now and then in your head.
    And, those days, when you were bored in your bed.
    Even in the Mind palace, when you're totally stuck,
    I promise to be there, yet how much might you suck.

    To My dearest Sherlock,
    I am pleased to be your WATSON...
    And I vow,
    To come at once...

    If convenient
    If inconvenient
    Coming all the same..

    Can you now deduce in here, your own name...


  • nafha_sherin 112w

    #Sherlock Holmes #

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    "There's the scarlet thread murder running through the colorless skein of life , and our duty is to unravel it , and isolate it , and expose every inch of it" .

  • siyahiii 113w


  • readwriteunite 113w

    Let's have some fun!

    Comment your Sherlock Story Name!

    Mine - The Murder of the Insidious Unicorn

    #mirakee #sherlock

    Read More


  • kajalpawar2911 115w

    "I have particular interest in complicated crimes, not because I have tendency of being a serial killer but because I can withstand how virtous convicts think"...

  • moziescerlet 126w

    "I may be on the side of the angels
    But don't think for one second that
    I'm one of them"

  • kyubaesalman 133w

    Part II

    My substantially MODERN FAMILY, helped me get through.
    My WALKING DEAD body was trying to heel too.
    And when I started BREAKING BAD my suicidal ideation.
    The SHERLOCK in my mind, disappeared in the blue.

    The GAME OF THRONES of life is ready with a new weapon.
    But LITTLE THINGS in life, have started giving me fun.
    I am prepared for THE BIG BANG, hit as hard as you can.
    Because this new TEEN WOLF will not fall again.

    Just when I almost became as strong as VIKING swords.
    I saw her beautiful face and felt weak like HOUSE OF CARDS.
    I went LOST IN SPACE by her sweet voice I heard.
    That JESSICA JONES left me no more words.

  • kyubaesalman 133w

    Part I

    In a FLASH of a second my whole world broke apart.
    Like a sharp ARROW pierced through my heart.
    The LEGENDS OF life were trying to teach me a lesson.
    And by the death of my SUPERGIRL they finished their painful art.

    I was feeling very lonely, I didn't wanted any FRIENDS.
    ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK, were the words in the weekly trends.
    I was becoming a LUCIFER, I had really dark plans.
    I bought a BLACK MIRROR, to see how dark I became.

    I was searching for why nots, I found more REASONS WHY.
    All along STRANGER THINGS kept passing by
    My dreams of being with YOU were still flying high.
    But the SUITS you gave me, kept reminding who Am I.

  • poets_never_fall_in_love 133w


    Crude music,
    Of tasteless hints..
    Driven by blind passions,
    Devoid of love...

    Carefree words,
    Of smoking dust,
    Floated out of mystery doors...
    Made of Baker Street love,
    With friendship tattoos,
    Burnt into their bulging pistols.
    Full of chemical love,
    With burnt down blinds,
    That severe the magician's
    Show night....

    Silence remembrances,
    Without sight,
    Yet not out of mind..
    Tuned into his heart,
    Like a jalapeno trigger,
    And a like-kleptomaniac,
    Born into heaven's earth.

    Sneaking into moonless nights,
    With the speckled bands ,
    And bohemian songs..
    And scarlet ladies dressed in black,
    Steal away in the middle of the night...
    Reminiscing about crime professors,
    Standing at doom's door,
    Holding hatchet knives,
    Ready to plunge into their friend's soul...

    Werewolves howl in the middle of the night,
    As Baskerville comes alive,
    With sing-song shots,
    And blind dash runs under the bloody moon...

    The holy towers sing of the eccentric's praise,
    With violin pauses in their solemn hymns..
    Watson loves with a pride,
    But even loss can't win a lover's fight...

    On the peaks of mountains,
    Stand the precipices of giants,
    With Irene Adler's destiny mirror,
    He runs barefoot into the hornet's nest,
    Full of spiders and killers,
    And poison darts,
    That leave an indelible mark...
    Yet the dead man returns back,
    With his dangling two feet,
    And dancing in his intoxicated sobriety,
    Till the shadows come into Doyle's words,
    And break his windows,
    To win the game..
    Of what...?
    Killers and murderers?
    Or just spectacular showmen like him?

    #pod #books #sherlock #mysteries #readers #readwriteunite
    @mirakee @writersnetwork

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    Werewolves howl in the middle of the night,
    As Baskerville comes alive,
    With sing-song shots,
    And blind dash runs under the bloody moon...

  • srijon_biswas 140w

    Courage is by far the kindest word for stupidity.

  • evaharlowe 143w

    The Fear You Won't Fall

    “I can’t fall in love with you. I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.”

    Sherlock drew his breath sharply, surprised that those words could hurt him so. The pain manifested physically, something he had never expected, a swift jab to the kidneys by an unseen force. For one panic-filled moment, he was afraid he’d lost the ability to spring right back up, a skill he developed over the years as the world’s only consulting detective. This, he thought, was what he had feared for most of his adult life, this feeling of utter helplessness because he actually didn’t know what to do next.

    He was famous for figuring his way out of any mental or intellectual conondrum, but this situation wasn’t exactly cerebral, was it? No, it was entirely visceral, a matter that affected a heart he had never been entirely sure he actually possessed until recently.

    “Kayako” was the only word he could manage through his dry lips and the thickening lump in his throat.

    She had looked away quickly after declaring her rejection of him, as if she herself couldn’t bear to witness the one true defeat of Sherlock Holmes. She drew curly cues on the condensation that covered the window panes, oblivious to the slow-motion shattering of his heart, to the crumbling of all the defensive walls he had been building for most of his life.

    “Do you even know what ‘love’ is, Sherlock?”

    Her voice cracked with the weight of the unshed tears that he knew she was desperately trying to hold back. She was the most expressive person he had ever met and yet she could stand in front of him so rigidly when they were both aware that she was barely keeping herself together. “I’ve never been entirely sure,” he ventured warily. “But I can tell you that you’re my first and only concern in the morning and the last face that flashes in my mind’s eye just before I pass out for the evening.”

    He wasn’t sleeping very well these days. Not that he had ever been a deep sleeper or anything, but lately  he’d developed an awful habit of  slipping into unconsciousness while staring at the wall and drinking whiskey every night since she told him she could no longer endure being around him. He would wake up at random times of the day in his thinking chair, with a crick in his neck, a vicious headache, and a blanket some kind soul--most likely Mrs. Hudson–- had draped over him while he dozed in drunken stupor.

    “That isn’t love, Sherlock. You’re just obsessed with me, that’s all, because you finally met someone you couldn’t figure out from the get-go. I didn’t follow the storyboard of the narrative you’ve already created for me in that perpetually restless mind of yours. I’m a puzzle you can’t solve and that’s the only reason you haven’t moved on from me yet.”

    How could he tell her that he didn't know how to move on from something that wasn't supposed to end?

    He glanced at the caddy that held five bottles of assorted hard liquor, along with snifters and shot glasses. He was gasping for a drink, but he promised himself that he was no longer going to depend on alcohol as a balm for his heartbreak. The little cart had been one of his most utilized furniture in the past few weeks. He had a ready-made bar he could easily move around the flat. It was convenient when he didn’t feel like prying his arse from the comfort of his thinking chair or on the days he couldn’t manage to rise from the sofa after countless hours of being rolled up into a ball in his favorite dressing gown. Which, as Mrs. Hudson had been reminding him, he should probably launder soon because it was starting to emit a sour stench of its owner’s atrophy. He’d taken to slumbering on anything else but the bed that was suddenly, inexplicably too big, even though he’d had the blighted thing for years.

    “You have to be able to take the good with the bad,” he heard himself say. “Especially since the good… just kept getting really good.”

    She spared him a quick look over her shoulder before scoffing and returning her attention to the window now dotted with droplets of London rain. “You’re just saying that because if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have discovered the joy of this sex thing that everyone around you has been fussing about all this time.”

    Sherlock experienced shame upon recognizing the bitterness in her tone. He had, of course, treated their initial sexual encounters as though they were nothing more than experiments for him. He had never felt such intense desire and need to be with someone the way he had with her. Much like anything he came across in life that was unfamiliar and unsettling to him, he studied it like a bug in a jar, viewing it as an intellectual curiousity and nothing more. After all, he had always strived to avoid emotional entanglements, so he could keep his objectivity intact, wrapped around him like his ever present Belstaff Milford overcoat.

    “I admit, Kayako, that I could have treated you better. I could have expressed my high regard for you in a more obvious, palpable way. But I am new to all of this. What I feel for you, I’ve never had it for anyone else, and the unfamiliarity of it… frightened me.”

    Upon hearing his words, she seemed to collapse into herself, doubling over so she could wrap her arms around her own torso.  She moaned in what sounded like agony, before striding across the living room to keep distance between them. “I can’t deal with any of this, Sherlock. I can’t trust myself to feel anything for you because I’m afraid you’ll destroy me. Being around you… it’s like my soul was disintegrating a little bit each day. You don’t know how to love, Sherlock. You yourself have told me several times that you are incapable of it.”

    He watched as she pulled up the stopper from one of his liquor bottles and poured herself a drink with shaking hands. He ached to take her in his arms, bury his face in her hair, and tell her everything was going to be all right. “I was wrong. It seems I’ve been wrong about everything in regards to you from the very beginning.” When she didn’t answer, he pleaded with her. “Please, Kayako, forgive me and allow me to take care of you the way you deserve. Just give me a chance. If you can’t love me now, I will love you enough for the both of us, until you can find it in your heart to love me back.”


  • soulmantra 145w

    A fog has draped my city.
    As if there is some Sherlock mystery,
    But soon the curtains will be down
    When He will clear clouds of doubts....

  • tutskii 148w


    Lingering mysteries,
    remain unsolved.
    Irritating minds
    as it tries to hide the answers.
    But this doesn't falter
    the hearts of those determined.
    They will succeed in finding
    the truth they have been seeking.


  • lostshayar567 150w

    She said she was a mystery,
    She didn't knew he was a Sherlock.