THURSDAY!!!

I feel like it's been forever since I've posted anything, and it's probably because I haven't for a week. Today, in America, it's Sherlock day. And I decided to cosplay as Molly because I can, and I have the stuff... well, most of it. I have the sweaters and the pants and the shoes. I'm just missing the labcoat and clipboard. Oh well! I think I'll put pictures up later, 'cause my outfit is super-duper cute!

I just realized that I kind of am Molly Hooper. That's weird when I begin to think about it.

No, it's really weird.
I'm a total ditz when it comes to boys, but stick me in a laboratory, and I'm your gal.

Yeah.

By the way, Cabin Pressure is over.

It was the best six weeks of my life, and they left out Z, which makes me hope there's going to be a special where we find out what happens to Martin.

GUYSSSS! MARTIN IS SUCH A CUTIE! I JUST CAN'T!
I WANT TO MARRY MARTIN CRIEFF!

Guess what? It's Thursday! and Valentne's Day, but that's whatever.

So, it's Thursday, which means that I get to be nerdy. Today, I'll post a fanfic that I wrote yesterday.
I don't own anything except for maybe the storyline, but nobody knows what really is original. This is all for fun.

He was back in the morgue for the third time that day. Molly smiled at him, nervous.
"Would you mind showing me the body again?"
"Not at all," she said, fumbling the pen she had picked up, "oh, God, I'm so sorry," she muttered, bending to pick it up, "I really am. Really."
"It's fine. Erm, Greg Lestrade," the inspector introduced himself, sticking his hand out to her.
"Molly Hooper. Isn't Sherlock usually with you?"
"Er, yes, but I came down by myself this time."
"Yes, I can see that. But you didn't come down to look at the body."
"You must spend a lot of time with Holmes, too."
"Guilty as charged, Inspector."
"Greg- please."
"All right then- Greg."
Lestrade smiled and cleared his throat, "Do... you, er, like coffee?"
"Yes. Would you like to have coffee sometime?"
"That would be fantastic, Molly."
"All right. Erm, just give me a call."
"Good. Well. Goodbye."
"'Bye," Molly said cheerfully as he left. She sighed. Greg Lestrade would be an adventure.

"Batting Clean-Up and Striking Out" by Dave Barry

The article that our group has is called "Batting Clean-Up and Striking Out", a short piece by Dave Barry that explains what the main difference between men and women is.

And that is the ability to notice dirt.

The article starts by making the reader think that the author is going to go in depth about the mental and physical differences between men and women, but then decides to approach something humorously. Barry over-exaggerates the ability of women to notice dirt throughout the piece, saying that women notice dirt "at the level of molecules."

Women, it seems, are the Sherlock Holmes of dirt (This is me making connections). We notice every little thing about it, thinking even the cleanest things can be dirty. Barry argues that this is accurate, saying that men really only notice filth when it's big enough to be in their way.

However, Barry allows that men are as sensitive as women to dirt when it comes to sports.

 

 

He mentions a time when at a friend's house for dinner, there was a World Series Game happening at the same time, and that his friend's wife had committed a social gaffe (I'll come back to this later). Barry said that all of the men could feel the radio and television rays penetrating their bodies while they endured petty after-dinner chatting. The men got out of it quickly, each finding an excuse to leave the room so they could watch the game.

 

 

Nobody in our group understood the word gaffe, so I looked it up, and it means a social blunder of some kind.

 

 

Forgive me, but all I could think about was when Sherlock Holmes wore a sheet to Buckingham Palace. That's a gaffe if I've ever seen one.

 

 

Barry uses mostly humor to write his piece. Everything written is a way into making fun of something. He evenly pokes fun at both men and women, saying that we really aren't that different, it's just what we're sensitive to.

A memorable passage from the piece is when, during dinner, the men just had to watch the game, and Barry describes it as, "exactly like that story by Edgar Allan Poe where the murderer can hear the victim's heart beating louder and louder... until finally he can't stand it anymore, and he just has to watch the World Series on television."

Barry not only uses humor, but an allusion to Poe to make it accessible to those not as sensitive to sports to understand how they were feeling.

He talks about his understanding of 'filthy' as a bathroom in a bar he used to frequent that had "bacteria you could enter in a rodeo."

That's what men notice, but women see this:

and freak out because that spot is absolutely filthy and must be scrubbed and disinfected immediately.

As a reader, I have made a connection to A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle because of John's incredulity at Sherlock's sensitivity to keeping only important things in his brain. Each gender is their own Sherlock Holmes, sensitive to different things, and only knowing how to fix it or finding a way to. To the other gender, we act as John Watson, not understanding why the other gender does what they do, but accepting it because that is who they are.