Your Moriarty is so twisted. He's not just an art thief, but one that destroys it. His little comment about ripping up the Mona Lisa actually made me cringe, and then the Stradivarius! He's just so horrifying and uninhibited in everything he does. You've got to give him points for style too--stealing an entire museum! And then all the skulls from men named John--I got chills. Christ, that's brilliant, but terrifying.
The explosion scene was perfect. There's really a sense of intensity and madness, with the jumbling of the words Sherlock sees and how he can suddenly taste color, and how the details all bleed together in his head. The aftermath of it all is even more interesting--just as intense, but highlighted by the following calm. Sherlock and Mycroft's scene was fantastic; their whole relationship is wonderfully fleshed out, with this underlying feeling of sadness and things unsaid, but also an unrelenting love that always comes through in the end.
The bunch of dried flowers was a sweet touch. Like with your outside POV fic, it's really interesting to see how other people react to Sherlock, and how he feels in turn.
His relationship with John is so, so lovely--sketching his face over and over as a sort of calming activity, tracing his veins, not needing to see John to know him. Sherlock Holmes has always been about his perception of the world, in any form, and seeing him as an artist just puts a stronger and different emphasis on it. Seeing the shift in his perception (about John, his brother, people, himself) is sort of shocking and wonderful, as he must feel when he realizes it. His surprise at finding that there isn't just someone who can understand (his art, his way of thinking) but find it as immersing as he does is unspeakably lovely.
This is a beautiful story, and I can't wait for the epilogue. Oh, it's just...loveliness, all over!
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The explosion scene was perfect. There's really a sense of intensity and madness, with the jumbling of the words Sherlock sees and how he can suddenly taste color, and how the details all bleed together in his head. The aftermath of it all is even more interesting--just as intense, but highlighted by the following calm. Sherlock and Mycroft's scene was fantastic; their whole relationship is wonderfully fleshed out, with this underlying feeling of sadness and things unsaid, but also an unrelenting love that always comes through in the end.
The bunch of dried flowers was a sweet touch. Like with your outside POV fic, it's really interesting to see how other people react to Sherlock, and how he feels in turn.
His relationship with John is so, so lovely--sketching his face over and over as a sort of calming activity, tracing his veins, not needing to see John to know him. Sherlock Holmes has always been about his perception of the world, in any form, and seeing him as an artist just puts a stronger and different emphasis on it. Seeing the shift in his perception (about John, his brother, people, himself) is sort of shocking and wonderful, as he must feel when he realizes it. His surprise at finding that there isn't just someone who can understand (his art, his way of thinking) but find it as immersing as he does is unspeakably lovely.
This is a beautiful story, and I can't wait for the epilogue. Oh, it's just...loveliness, all over!