jadpdr

Oh, it seems like only yesterday sfmpco was pacing up and down waiting for the happy event

Scotland Yard is no more! (Sorry, five words)

If anything from the two major Baby threads is in that show, we have been infiltrated!

Hey, the ferry is still running, from the Basin de l' Atlantique, twice a day) When the two men reached Abbeville, still on Route A16, Monsieur LeBlanc did some fancy manouevering to see that no one was following them, a wise precaution in the circumstances, and then drove to the banks of La Somme, parking near a bistrot with the apposite name Chez Jules, and Sherlock remembered how Mycroft had insisted on his perfecting his French by reading the entirety of Commissaire Maigret's stories, by Georges Simenon. Maybe they had been the deciding factor in his decision to become a consulting detective rather than an implausible pirate, back then. They got out of the car and entered the bistrot. In the usual dimmed light of the inside of such a place, Monsieur LeBlanc steered both of them to a little marble-topped table in a corner, and Sherlock immediately registered how the nondescript man sitting there in his off-the-peg clothes had picked the best spot for ensuring privacy and for being able to observe all customers entering or leaving. Monsieur Ganimard was no slouch when it came to work, then, although Sherlock, approaching him, could see that the man, like DI Lrstrade was in an unhappy marriage, plagued by his wife's infidelities...but, wait a second...he had a mistress on the side! Oh, those French and their libertarian attitudes! Anyway, he wasn't here to find out about Monsieur Ganimard's sexual life, but about Mary! Once all three were seated and two more cafe au lait had been ordered, Monsieur Ganimard gushed: Mr Sholmes, you can't fathom how great an honour you are doing me just by being here! It is a privilege I shall recount to my grandchildren, without the details of the case, of course!" "Thank you, Monsieur, now if you could give us the details of your collaboration with Abbigail Aarons, alias Mary Watson, I would be extremely grateful." Manners were not his style, as he tore through cases like a tornado, but past experience had taught him that excessive politeness worked on the French like grease or machine oil worked on machines. "Well, Monsieur Sholmes, it is true that we arranged three eliminations for Made moiselle Aarons, and two of them went like a dream. She was in position, she took out the targets, she left having recovered the spent cartidges like a thoroughing professional, but the third assignment involved an Australian Greenpeace agitator, who had been causing us a lot of grief after the unfortunate mishap. You do unrestand, Monsieur Sholmes, that it is never easy to look foolish in the eyes of the other secret services, never mind having to surrender your own operatives to justice! Think of your own time spent in an MI6 holding cell after having done exactly what your instructions were! Anyway, I instructed Ms Aarons to wound that person as a warning. He had been warned not to continue with his illicit propaganda to no effect. I don't know exactly what happened on his tiny, thirty- foot yacht off the shore of Toulon, but he was found killed, with precise shots to the chest, alongside his twin daughters, aged nine, shot with equal precision. Our director decided that this occurrence constituted overkill, so I released Ms Aarons to go her way and deploy her considerable talents elsewhere. Children are not guilty, they should be spared, if at all possible. So, our connection to Ms Aarons was terminated." That was because she was being busy getting her nursing certificate and landing a job in John's surgery, were the first thoughts that came to Sherlock's mind, but to what purpose, now that he knew the whole MARY-Janine-Moriarty angle!

Sorry, anything which was not written by ACD doesn't count as far as I'm concerned! As if we didn't have enough trouble with the highly improbable concoctions of the two alleged fanboys already!

No way! There's no Uncle or Cousin Rudy in all 56 stories and four novelettes!

And what about monitoring baby brother and all the CCTV footage Sherlock has to evade if he wants to disappear?

Who wouldn't love Sher Khan with such a voice? Which is a double-edged sword, as the tiger is the evil character in the original story!

Yes, well, what they are doing at the moment has quite another name for it: mindf%#%; but I shall give them the benefit of the doubt if with the Almighty's help I am able to watch the fabled S4: for a time, it seemed a chimera, and I DO NOT TRUST Mr Moffat further than I could throw him: he's a proverbial tease!

Well, the great detective should have observed her movements and predicted the likely outcome of getting shot by a cornered ex-assassin! THIS Mary and her spawn should disappear quickly and efficiently from the series! As for trusting the creators, I have discovered Caya's favourite fan fiction author, PlaidAdder, and I share the latter's views: you cannot trust Mr Moffat if he tells you that water is wet! But I shall reserve judgement until I watch the long-awaited S4!

Oh, I have never tried asking them anything, but I know the scene from Silence of the Lambs: Never assume anything because you will be making an ass out of U and M(e). It was a very effective deterrent!

For my part, I suspect it's Lou, after all the lady is an avowed feminist, not a punster!

Sherlock retrieved their mobiles from the inert forms of the two traitorous agents and handed Anthea hers while he pocketed his own. Mulling over their statements, he realised that the events hitherto did not constitute a logical sequence. And when he reviewed the statement about himself being the package to be delivered he gave vent to a rather strong expletive that had Anthea looking at him askance: "When and if we get back, please remind me to concede, publicly if need be, that my brother is, indeed, the smarter one. I have been a blind idiot, and shall need your help in reversing the previous course of action." "Certainly, Mr Holmes, in what way?" "First things first, we need to secure these two and then leave the area before Monsieur Leblanc comes back with reinforcements. Then, I shall explain what you have to do, and I hope that your Security Services training will help you pull it off." V So, they manhandled the two unconscious form on the back of the SUV, secured them to each other by a pair of handcuffs (Sally's this time, they had lain so enticingly in the top drawer of her desk the last time he had visited her before the bank charade), and then climbed back into the vehicle with Sherlock driving, since Anthea would have needed a GPS for the route he was planning. After refueling at the outskirts of the large port, he turned right into D127 in the direction of a small town called Boursin, which had the enormous advantage of being surrounded by forests. Stopping on the outskirts near a copse of chestnut trees, he outlined his plan: he had been too hasty in rendering the two agents unconscious, since the probability was high that they would have led them to Mary, and thus to Sheralyn. She needed to convince them, once they came round, that she was on their side, a sleeper agent of their nebulous organization put in a place of trust right next to the office of the head of British security the better to monitor his contacts. Anthea had the rare gift of being a very good listener, and her work for Mycroft had made her very laconic. She asked for ver little clarification and then set about helping him put his plan in effect. Thus it was that Sorge and Warburton came out of their drug-induced stupor to find Anthea working on freeing them of their bonds and Sherlock handcuffed to the dashboard of the vehicle, ostensibly looking daggers at her. She gave them her version of the story, and Sherlock marveled how voluble the usually monosyllabic young woman could get if properly motivated! Her message to them was clear : Take me to your leader! A message which she underscored by training her semi-automatic Beretta on Sherlock with the safety off! He would never, ever consider her a goldfish ever again: she was proving to be a valuable and strong ally. Under the directions of Warburton, Anthea drove the SUV past Dunkirk on the A16 and then turned left at Cuygnes, driving for the coastal town of Bray-Dunes. Sherlock had connected the dots and concluded that Warburton's assertion about Mary having taken off for parts unknown was just a misdirection on her part. Indeed, he firmly believed that a woman like Mary, who had proven her ability to hack into the most secure systems, had known about John's youthful indiscretion and had wanted to meet only him in a game of divide and conquer. Finally, they stopped in front of a traditional French restaurant, a place where the regulars probably still had their serviette rings kept in neat pigeonholes, appropriately called La Voile Bleue. Still in her role, Anthea unlocked his handcuffs and motioned him to precede her by hiding her gun under the folds of her jacket, which she had thrown over her lower arm. But in so doing, she slipped him her tiny Derringer, which he palmed and shoved into his trouser pocket, wishing one more time that his tailor would not cut his trousers so close-fitting. In doing so, he brushed against the key of 221B and had to remind himself that in their circumstances sentiment was not only a chemical defect but could prove fatal! Surrounded by the two women and preceding Sorge, he walked into the cool, dim interior of the wood-paneled restaurant with its cracked marble floor. Apparently, the meeting had been set up well in advance, because the rosy-cheeked waitress took them upstairs once Warburton had asked for the reservation of Madame Ramage. Sure enough, there was Mary, hair dyed light brown, with a carry-cot at her feet. If he were a vain man, Sherlock would have figuratively patted himself on the back about the accuracy of his assessment of the situation, but was rendered speechless by a familiar figure emerging from the back room and saying in a familiar Irish lilt :"Did you miss me?"

Why? I would say it is normal fan reaction. Wait until the filming starts, dear fellow members!

CIA doesn't sugarcoat agents!

Somehow, I wouldn't bet on that. Enduring almost two solid hours of Ben (Stiller) and Owen Wilson kind of humour for about two minutes of Benedict could be considered cruel and inhuhuman punishment!

Alternatively, locate Sherlock:

Why bother with curls, wigs and the rest, when a true gift of the gods can be so many things to so many people?

Lovely bit of rumour, but with all the red herrings, Easter eggs and what have you that the evil creative duo seem to scatter in their wake, I shall wait for the series to be aired and then draw any conclusions! In the interview, not even Moriarty's status was clarified!

I am glad I'm not on Twiter, or Mr Gatiss might get a rather not lady-like reply! It's a flipping TV show: they should get on with the job in hand in a thoroughing professional, discreet, efficient and effective manner, much as they did for S1! Teasing the animals, sorry, the fans, I meant to say, is more than 'a bit not good'!

I believe the third hair-pulling attempt is at the beginning of Hound. In no way can they be described as ruffles, but to each their own!

That was pretty impressive! Thanks, J.P. ! Now, if Sherlock would stop being such a needy, clingy person as far as John is concerned and behaved a little more independently, that would be lovely! And I voted, apparently it allow you to vote multiple times.

Alternatively, concerning Mycroft cutout, why not simply stick it on the inside of the front door: he'll intimidate all your visitors into being on their best behaviour throughout their visit.

But when Sherlock tells him about 'Jets' , the dear doctor doesn't question them beyond a puzzled "what?"

You mean they will try to explain why the suffrage movement was moved forward by two years or that they deemed it necessary for the murderous 'Monstrous regiment' to be dressed in KKK 'silly hats' , only in purple?