Today is only yesterday's tomorrow
Oh God, I wonder if I'm ever able to do my homework in time. Now it's the history of foreign journalism time and I'm supposed to compose (oh, compose...) a Thomas Paine essay - and though I'm listening to Rufus Wainwright's verse of 'Hallelujah' and passionately dreaming of a new Sherlock video. 'A Scandal in Belgravia' in it's second watching time made me feel empty, and sored, and willing to hit John Watson's head with something heavy in order to wake him up. Again. Then a Sherlock vid based on 'Hallelujah' appeared, and I was excited and moved, and this morning I woke up with my head filled with 'Hallelujah'. And I want it as a lullaby of John for Sherlock in the night after everything ended. As if he knew Irene was alive and saved by Sherlock - and probably he even didn't. Yes, she cut his hair! Hasn't she betrayed him! Wasn't the camera-phone breaking his revenge? Wasn't there a forgiveness after it?
Every fact of grief and light in this story is sung of: 'Hallelujah!' by John. After all, Sherlock is here, not OK, regardless of her being alive and thriving, he won, but... He is alone again. There's John beside him, that John, who to Sherlock's mind knows nothing of his ability to love. Don't hide it deep in yourself, Sherlock, the last evidence will help you in no way. You both've got this - a cold and a broken Hallelujah.

I've made the video!

запись создана: 17.11.2013 в 15:54

@темы: любовь, Sherlock BBC