The Bartok Quartets

[impulsereader]

I have found Sherlock. I now know what he is doing in this fic. He is still finding his way home; and he is doing it through music. This is so terribly, fearfully, insanely beautiful - and I have no idea if I am capable of getting the point across.

As of my last post I cannot even decide where to set Much Ado. How can I possibly reconcile Sherlock with home? I am not even a musician. I cannot possibly relate to his character on this level.

I've been plotting this story all weekend, and I came home tonight with a perfect, guaranteed solitary opportunity to translate some of it to actual writing - and immediately found I couldn't do anything - at all - so I ate corn and watched A Scandal in Belgravia for lack of a better idea. I sulkily researched cricket, science experiments, and Bartok. Bartok turned the key.

Now it is too late to write, as sleep is actually advisable at some point, and I have even more words pressing uncomfortably into my brain. I don't know whether to be happy that I might have reached a jumping off point or upset because this story just keeps expanding. I haven't yet learned how to properly keep hold of a story; how do I know when one has gotten away from me? Right now it seems as if I have just discovered an element which was always meant to be here, but I am worried that the dictation into my brain doesn't automatically come with a side of neat organization - HA! - I fear I am a Sherlock without a John by my side.

typing both gets me in trouble and sorts out my brain.

New worry - No One is going to want to read this fic except me...Shakespeare, Bartok, crossover, and excess of original characters - WTF?

Comments

[221b-hound.livejournal.com]

Oh, and having said that Martin is kind of nervous, awkward and pompous, that's mainly when he's feeling insecure (which, frankly, is most of the time). But from time to time he really knows what he's doing, is much more confident and every now and then he's a little bit magnificent. This could be one of those times.

[impulsereader.livejournal.com]

I wasn't expecting to have to emotionally whump Sherlock in this story. I thought I could get away with leaving his parents out and providing some normal-seeming OC relatives.

I am now faced with a whole new ball game.

Cue (with a rhyming couplet, of course) indulgent but distant Mummy and Father - who drank.

[221b-hound.livejournal.com]

Hence Mycroft's role as Mummy? Poor Sherlock. And John has some insight into having to deal with family alcoholism. *pets them both*

"If it proves so, then parenting goes by haps:
Some Bacchus kills with vodka, some with schnapps"

(with apologies to both Shakespeare and Hero)